In her mind’s eye, everything was so far away.
She felt calm, serenely supping on details of cosmology. It was arbitrarily, wildly improbable that she had become this particular arrangement of atoms that could observe itself; it was more improbable still that such a localization of clustered entropy could meander through a litany of points in time and space that she called memories; it was vanishingly impossible that her four-dimensional self had been stretched out into existing in this particular coordinate of history, on a lonely island others would have called parts unknown.
Purposeless for some time, now not so.
She could still breathe, she was pretty sure. It came slow, in little fluffy tickles against her nose. The scent of fresh grass reminded her of places and peoples and gardens and dogs long lost to her when she’d progressed this far from the unfamiliar past into the unfamiliar present. The scent more acutely reminded her of the climate, the fauna she’d woken up to find herself sprawled out among.
((Wake Up.))
She’d made it some distance. Marvelled at what she’d seen, the many majestic bits of nature whose names she’d listed off as she’d walked. She could still remember the sound of her own breathing, and then, little else.
Beryl Furushima Cunningham Mahelona folded over, squished into the ground like melted marshmallow, folded up by the limb into positions that seemed cozily uncomfortable, childlike as she cradled her own knees like a fetus fresh from the womb. She plowed into earth by her shoulders, the hem of her sweater and undershirt rode up, failing to cover the thin of her waist.
It was also a familiar memory. It had been in the waning weeks of their classes Sophomore year, it had been one of Beryl’s worst attacks in public, one she’d often tried not to remember as the years had elapsed since. She’d been struggling to contain her laughter at a joke as she’d been leaving the art building. She’d been pausing, staring, which she often did. She’d been fighting an unseeable battle. As she’d lost she’d hit the ground, almost cracking open her own skull save for what little bit of control she’d retained over her arms allowing her to shield herself. That bout of cataplexy had ended up in this exact position she was presently in. It had been about half a second’s worth of fall as her muscles had failed her, giving out like the snapping of bridge ropes as she’d done her best impression of London Bridge. Onto her knees first, then toppling forward the rest of the way.
Just like this.
Her face was similar from then to now as well- relaxed, mouth pried open wide enough that one could have pretended she had an unhinged jaw. Eyes somewhat void of life or substance, shoved right against the dirt until it almost started to flood right into the unseeing eyeball. Her bag had skidded ahead of her and came to rest against a chair, connected to her only by the strap shyly teasing of one of the fingers of her weakly clenched hand. The placid nature of her surroundings, at least, seemed a token comfort. Familiar, if she could have been conscious enough to see it.
Yet to be revved, a chainsaw in a fetchingly Bob the Builder yellow also kissed the ground a bit of distance away from her fallen form.
Nature hummed along merrily, all around her. She appreciated the company, in that distant and not-really-there way of hers. The sound of water, ripples playfully splashing, some faraway torrent crashing to earth, stood stalwart by her as she lay unmoving, corpse-like.
dehiscent
open
dehiscent
V8 Vibes:
V7 Vibes:
((Boy #30 - Start))
Work The Problem.
It was a phrase that got used around NASA a lot. He'd read it in Chris Hadfield's autobiography. It was also a phrase Henry Sparks held as something of a mantra whenever he encountered a stressful situation, or a fear that simply wouldn't abate. That was the point of it all, in the end. Going to space was about solving problems no one else could.
Now it seemed that like it or not, he had different goals. The process was, fortunately, much the same.
This was, in no uncertain terms, a series of problems. A list that needed to be worked down if he was going to have a chance at survival. If there was any chance of foiling the plans of the terrorists, who'd so brutally murdered their teachers and intended death for all of them as well, Henry had to Work the Problem. One set of problems, and then another, and then another. Then maybe he would survive. Maybe he wouldn't be the only one.
Maybe someone would pay for this.
Problem Number One: I am likely one of the few people here who isn't going to buy into their game. I have no intention of dying needlessly or killing anyone. That runs contrary to everything I am. I know that I'm likely an oddity. Everything I know about Survival of the Fittest tells me that most, if not all of us are going to be bereft of any kind of rational decision making. Some will try to kill me, and others. They believe that will help them survive.
"Fuck! Stupid fucking - cannon! Shit!"
If he remembered correctly, some students were issued assault rifles, shotguns, and pistols. Others got sex toys and silly hats. The object currently digging into Henry's shoulder was a seven-foot long punt gun, the writing on the barrel reading "3 Bore. E. Redden & Son, London 1899." It had a breech more akin to an artillery piece and he could only guess it weighed at least forty pounds. The ammunition were eight-inch long steel shells, filled to the brim with shot and sealed with what looked to be beeswax. They weighed down his pack uncomfortably.
Dad wanted to talk about it. I asked after we had to do those drills. I wasn't old enough to know the details. One of the few things they ever hid from me. Not that I didn't find out on my own, now in more ways than one.
Simply getting down here from the hill near the waterfall was a journey enough, but the final trek through the brush depleted what was left of Henry's stamina. He dropped the punt gun to the ground as he lost his footing, barely missing the prone form of another student in the serenity circle as he tumbled to the ground. Knowing the commotion would cause a stir for anyone nearby, he wheeled around and pulled the giant weapon close-
Really now?
-before dropping it to the ground in frustration. Surprised that the other student hadn't seemed to get up from their place on the dirt, he looked closer to see that it was Beryl Mahelona. Next to her lay a bright yellow chainsaw, and what might've been the solution to Problem Number One. A way to defend himself from those who'd given up before they had a chance to fight the real enemy.
I can't blame them, but I don't have a convincing position. Most won't listen. Not when there is a bomb around their necks.
That was Problem Three. The collars. Not worth thinking about right now. Problem Two was finding allies. He'd always found Beryl pretty interesting, if not a bit distant. At the very least she didn't seem the killing type. Henry's mind drifted to thoughts of who might be the killing type. Who might take the chainsaw or the punt gun, and -
The more I know, the more I don't have to fear. The more that I have in my control. What other people choose to do is not in my control. Only this is. This person deserves to live. We all do. Work the problem, however possible.
He didn't realize he had tears in her eyes until he called out her name, and heard his voice waver.
"Beryl! Beryl, wake up!"
He turned her over to face him, her face caked in dirt. It was then he noticed that she wasn't exactly asleep, her eyes bolted wide open but not seeming to take notice of him, or anything else for that matter. His hands raced to her neck, checking for a pulse.
"No. Please, you need to have a chance. Can you hear me?"
She was alive. Breathing too, but faintly. Henry shouted, he shook her, but nothing seemed to wake her up. And they were here, exposed, with no way for Henry to defend the two of them except a chainsaw and the stupid giant gun. Outside of zombies or geese there wasn't much he was equipped to deal with.
"Zombie geese. That'd be appropriate, reality stopped making sense half an hour ago. C'mon, Beryl, get up. Please."
Henry suddenly stood up from Beryl, a thought crossing his mind. It was a terrible idea. It would attract attention. It might not work.
It's better than nothing.
It might solve Problem One and Two at the same time. Henry checked to make sure Beryl had a clear airway, and then left to pull the pair of chairs together.
"I'll - I'll be right back. I just have to borrow this for a second..."
Who are you talking to? She might never wake up from this.
It had to be at least seven feet apart. They were heavy wooden pieces that looked like they'd been made by whoever had lived here before. He glanced at the nearby cages, trying desperately to not speculate what they were used for.
"Alright. Work the problem. Come on. Let's make this worthwhile."
If anything would wake her, a revving chainsaw might. With the Punt Gun wedged firmly between the two chairs, Henry pulled the cord on the chainsaw. A rumble, but nothing. He pulled once again, and still there was nothing.
"Come on, work!"
He paused. Thinking back to every time he'd seen someone start a chainsaw, he held it up in front of him. Grabbing the end of the cord, he let the motor fall as he pulled on it. To his delight, the saw came to life. Henry couldn't help but smile as the chain began to move on the blade. After a few confident revs of the motor, he got to work. A shower of sparks flew from the barrel of the Punt Gun, causing pinpricks of pain on his arms. No doubt there was a chance the blade would kick-back, or not get completely through the gun.
"Alright, almost there." His voice was barely audible as the saw continued to struggle with the hundred year-old steel. As it sunk deeper, he had to close his eyes as a few sparks glanced off of his face.
Please work. Please.
He'd not noticed himself leaning on the gun as much as he had, and as the saw broke through the other side of the barrel he nearly fell on top of it. Henry let out a cry as he shoved the chainsaw aside, only barely catching himself on one of the wooden chairs. He turned to Beryl, hoping that maybe the commotion had awoken her.
"Shit."
Still, nothing. He had no idea what was going on with her. It could've been shock, or a side effect of the knockout gas. He'd been fending off what felt like a migraine since awaking, and it was entirely possible something worse had happened to her. Reaching for his now-serviceable weapon on the chair, he walked back and knelt down beside her. The gun was still heavy, but the barrel was now at least twenty-four inches long, instead of the seven-foot monster he'd been saddled with. It would have to do.
Henry pulled one of the gigantic shells from the pack and loaded it into the gun. The breech closed with a satisfying metallic clank.
"I don't know if you can hear me. I'm not sure if this works, and I'm not sure if there's anyone else out there. But I'm not leaving you here like this."
His eyes scanned the bushes, and the lake. One problem solved, and he still felt no better for it.
((Okay, so Abe was Freddy Krueger, but then he'd passed the title of Freddy to Nona, so he guessed he wasn't a slasher anymore, and now it seemed like some asshole was trying to be Leatherface.))
He ran for a while, like hell, and then he stopped to catch his breath, because he was in hell shape, and then he ran again, because though he'd sorta dared Nona to catch him if she can, he didn't actually want her to? Abe was like a ghost dog in that he sort of just arbitrarily did things, he told himself, because what the hell was he supposed to do otherwise, think? Reflect on why he was the way he was? Whatever. He really just wanted to put distance between him and the forest, and he still hadn't bothered to look at his map, so he was kind of just wandering.
During one of his breaks he'd taken the gun out and figured out how to load it. And also, uh, loaded it. Safety on. Safety very on. He tested it. Click click click. Safety worked. Abe needed to carry the gun, because he'd stolen - "traded" for it, and it'd just be a waste if he didn't make the most of it. If he kept it in the duffel bag, he'd waste valuable time scrambling for it if shit hit the him, so he needed to carry it. He didn't have a holster and he sure as hell wasn't gonna stick it in his pants or something, so he needed to carry it.
Jesus fucking christ he hated carrying the gun! It made him feel dangerous, and that's not something he'd really ever... wanted. The only hurt he ever did was by, uh, being emotionally unavailable and saying stupid shit pretty much constantly. Not great, but not like, dangerous. He didn't want people to be scared of him.
Maybe he needed people to be scared of him, though. Like, there he was, at the lake, where he'd sort of just ended up, 'cause like, he needed a destination eventually. There he was, and he heard the sound of a chainsaw split the fucking air. If there was a maniac running around with a fucking chainsaw, well, yeah, he wanted the chainsaw asshole to be more scared of him than he was of them, like a very sharp spider.
Investigating the source of the chainsawing was an insanely stupid move but like, he had to, right? He had to. Like, he was contractually obligated to, by himself, because if he didn't he'd spend the rest of his time on this pisshole of an Earth thinking 'man what the hell was up with that?'
Seemed like the commotion was coming from a small pool to the side of the lake. Abe cautiously approached, submachine gun clutched tightly in his right hand by his side. As he got closer, he saw two people - one dude, holding a big fuckoff gun, with a chainsaw lying on the ground next to him. One chick, curled up on the ground next to him. He recognized both of them, but not in any meaningful way. There were cages in the water and that was fuckin' weird.
"So, uh, the hell's going on here?"
He ran for a while, like hell, and then he stopped to catch his breath, because he was in hell shape, and then he ran again, because though he'd sorta dared Nona to catch him if she can, he didn't actually want her to? Abe was like a ghost dog in that he sort of just arbitrarily did things, he told himself, because what the hell was he supposed to do otherwise, think? Reflect on why he was the way he was? Whatever. He really just wanted to put distance between him and the forest, and he still hadn't bothered to look at his map, so he was kind of just wandering.
During one of his breaks he'd taken the gun out and figured out how to load it. And also, uh, loaded it. Safety on. Safety very on. He tested it. Click click click. Safety worked. Abe needed to carry the gun, because he'd stolen - "traded" for it, and it'd just be a waste if he didn't make the most of it. If he kept it in the duffel bag, he'd waste valuable time scrambling for it if shit hit the him, so he needed to carry it. He didn't have a holster and he sure as hell wasn't gonna stick it in his pants or something, so he needed to carry it.
Jesus fucking christ he hated carrying the gun! It made him feel dangerous, and that's not something he'd really ever... wanted. The only hurt he ever did was by, uh, being emotionally unavailable and saying stupid shit pretty much constantly. Not great, but not like, dangerous. He didn't want people to be scared of him.
Maybe he needed people to be scared of him, though. Like, there he was, at the lake, where he'd sort of just ended up, 'cause like, he needed a destination eventually. There he was, and he heard the sound of a chainsaw split the fucking air. If there was a maniac running around with a fucking chainsaw, well, yeah, he wanted the chainsaw asshole to be more scared of him than he was of them, like a very sharp spider.
Investigating the source of the chainsawing was an insanely stupid move but like, he had to, right? He had to. Like, he was contractually obligated to, by himself, because if he didn't he'd spend the rest of his time on this pisshole of an Earth thinking 'man what the hell was up with that?'
Seemed like the commotion was coming from a small pool to the side of the lake. Abe cautiously approached, submachine gun clutched tightly in his right hand by his side. As he got closer, he saw two people - one dude, holding a big fuckoff gun, with a chainsaw lying on the ground next to him. One chick, curled up on the ground next to him. He recognized both of them, but not in any meaningful way. There were cages in the water and that was fuckin' weird.
"So, uh, the hell's going on here?"
-
Ruggahissy
- Posts: 1593
- Joined: Mon Aug 13, 2018 4:13 pm
((Jonah Heartgrave start, I have permission to cuddle))
Jonah's soft blue waves bumped lightly against a metal bar. He moved again and his head tapped the bar more forcefully this time. He blinked slowly, realizing that he was surrounded by bars. He was propped up, sitting, with water up to his neck. He looked out and saw several more cages. They were just big enough to fit a human, though not comfortably.
He had been sitting next to Abel on the bus. Abel had spilled salsa on him during the dinner the night before and Marco wouldn't stop laughing. He'd ducked into a gift shop that was open late, the only thing that sold clothes open at the hour, and bought a shitty "I <3 D.C." tourist shirt. It was just for the ride back. The ride back he remembered falling asleep slowly, leaning against the other boy, but gaze fixed on someone else.
Jonah groggily touched his pocket and felt the bumpy outline of a necklace he'd bought at the Smithsonian's Gem Gallery. His hands moved up to his neck and he felt the collar. His heart dropped. Gingerly, he maneuvered getting out of the cage he had been stuffed into. He hit head head on the top of the cage and saw his bag on top of it. Clumsily, he pulled the bag down and flopped over onto the dirt. Immediately pulled out a gold Desert Eagle. His eyebrows knit together in concern and he shoved it into the back of his pants. He blinked rapidly, tears clinging to his eyelashes, but not falling.
Not far away he saw some people. His vision was still blurry from the drugs and from his own emotion. Someone else had approached and was standing over the girl on the ground. He recognized Henry and Beryl dimly. She had been on basketball at one point. He crawled over to Beryl, ignoring the newcomer for the moment. It was difficult trying to think through the haze and he tried to will himself to become more lucid, but at the same time, he wasn't sure if wanted reality to hit him at full force.
Jonah took her by the shoulders and pulled her in close to him. He sat up as much as he could and held her close to him, wrapping his arms around her and holding her to his chest.
"Hi," he said quietly.
Jonah's soft blue waves bumped lightly against a metal bar. He moved again and his head tapped the bar more forcefully this time. He blinked slowly, realizing that he was surrounded by bars. He was propped up, sitting, with water up to his neck. He looked out and saw several more cages. They were just big enough to fit a human, though not comfortably.
He had been sitting next to Abel on the bus. Abel had spilled salsa on him during the dinner the night before and Marco wouldn't stop laughing. He'd ducked into a gift shop that was open late, the only thing that sold clothes open at the hour, and bought a shitty "I <3 D.C." tourist shirt. It was just for the ride back. The ride back he remembered falling asleep slowly, leaning against the other boy, but gaze fixed on someone else.
Jonah groggily touched his pocket and felt the bumpy outline of a necklace he'd bought at the Smithsonian's Gem Gallery. His hands moved up to his neck and he felt the collar. His heart dropped. Gingerly, he maneuvered getting out of the cage he had been stuffed into. He hit head head on the top of the cage and saw his bag on top of it. Clumsily, he pulled the bag down and flopped over onto the dirt. Immediately pulled out a gold Desert Eagle. His eyebrows knit together in concern and he shoved it into the back of his pants. He blinked rapidly, tears clinging to his eyelashes, but not falling.
Not far away he saw some people. His vision was still blurry from the drugs and from his own emotion. Someone else had approached and was standing over the girl on the ground. He recognized Henry and Beryl dimly. She had been on basketball at one point. He crawled over to Beryl, ignoring the newcomer for the moment. It was difficult trying to think through the haze and he tried to will himself to become more lucid, but at the same time, he wasn't sure if wanted reality to hit him at full force.
Jonah took her by the shoulders and pulled her in close to him. He sat up as much as he could and held her close to him, wrapping his arms around her and holding her to his chest.
"Hi," he said quietly.
Henry shuffled uneasily next to Beryl. The gun had a spigot on the front end that seemed to have a few points it could swivel to. Turning it to the side created something of a makeshift handle. There was an ancient-looking length of rope tied to the front end that seemed to have been used to keep it firmly on whatever boat it was meant to be mounted on. With some ingenuity, Henry managed to tie it around the grip. It didn't have a stock, so there was absolutely nothing to brace it on. At least if it hung off his shoulder, it might be easier to carry.
What about when I fire it? What the hell is this going to do when I pull the trigger?
Almost on queue, he saw a form approach the two of them. Beryl still didn't stir, and so he turned slowly to face the stranger, the massive barrel of the punt gun turning with him to face whoever was approaching. Though he hoped against all hope that the stranger didn't mean them harm, he appeared to have a rather menacing weapon at his side. There wasn't any chance Henry could get up with the gun slung around his neck and find cover before he could fire. Beryl didn't have much of a chance at all. He cocked the hammer on the side of his weapon, a menacing metallic clicking noise emanating from the gun. According to the manual, the first notch on the hammer was a safety notch. The second armed it to fire.
Please don't make this worse. We don't have to do this.
Only taking his eyes off of the boy with the submachine gun for a moment, he noticed Jonah crawling up behind him, lying next to Beryl. He didn't seem well either.
What the fuck was in that knockout gas? Where are we?
As carefully as he could, he began to stand up. The boy asked a question. Truthfully, Henry wasn't sure he knew the answer.
"I had to cut the gun down to size so I could use it. Beryl had a chainsaw. She's not waking up. I'm making sure she gets a chance to. What were you planning on doing with that thing?"
He stood firmly between the boy and the other two.
"Nothing, I hope."
What about when I fire it? What the hell is this going to do when I pull the trigger?
Almost on queue, he saw a form approach the two of them. Beryl still didn't stir, and so he turned slowly to face the stranger, the massive barrel of the punt gun turning with him to face whoever was approaching. Though he hoped against all hope that the stranger didn't mean them harm, he appeared to have a rather menacing weapon at his side. There wasn't any chance Henry could get up with the gun slung around his neck and find cover before he could fire. Beryl didn't have much of a chance at all. He cocked the hammer on the side of his weapon, a menacing metallic clicking noise emanating from the gun. According to the manual, the first notch on the hammer was a safety notch. The second armed it to fire.
Please don't make this worse. We don't have to do this.
Only taking his eyes off of the boy with the submachine gun for a moment, he noticed Jonah crawling up behind him, lying next to Beryl. He didn't seem well either.
What the fuck was in that knockout gas? Where are we?
As carefully as he could, he began to stand up. The boy asked a question. Truthfully, Henry wasn't sure he knew the answer.
"I had to cut the gun down to size so I could use it. Beryl had a chainsaw. She's not waking up. I'm making sure she gets a chance to. What were you planning on doing with that thing?"
He stood firmly between the boy and the other two.
"Nothing, I hope."
"I dunno, man, what were you planning to do with that big fuckoff gun?" Abe shrugged. It obviously wasn't a good idea to like, antagonize said guy with said gun, but no one said he couldn't talk a little shit. They probably should have said it. But they didn't. Wait, the dude said he'd had to chop up the gun so it'd be usable? First off, that was completely insane? What the hell? Who saw a chainsaw and went 'yeah I should totally cut some metal with this!' Second, that meant the gun used to be even bigger. This wasn't even the gun's final form. Well. It probably was, actually. Not like you could un-chainsaw something.
"I figure it's the same as you, yeah? I found it in my bag, and I thought, 'oh shit, other people might have guns,' so I figured I should hang onto it-"
Some weirdo had crawled out from one of the cages and started cuddling with Beryl. Must be her boyfriend or something. Wasn't exactly the time for it, but whatever. Whatever! Maybe he was still all loopy from the drugs, or the trauma, or the panic, or maybe he was just, like that. Who gave a shit, he wasn't one of the dudes holding a gun. Abe awkwardly waved at him anyways. No harm in being nice.
"Uh. Anyways. How about we all like, chill?" He gestured vaguely towards Beryl. "Any idea what's wrong with her?" Not like Abe had any reason to give a shit, but it couldn't hurt to make it seem like he was a better person than he was, right? Besides, it's not like he wanted her to like, die. Even though that would objectively be better for him in the long run, but like, he wasn't gonna be fucking thinking like that. Not after only like five minutes after waking up in the killzone. He wasn't feral yet, alright? People dying was bad. People died when they died. If you died in real life, you died in real life, and so on.
"I figure it's the same as you, yeah? I found it in my bag, and I thought, 'oh shit, other people might have guns,' so I figured I should hang onto it-"
Some weirdo had crawled out from one of the cages and started cuddling with Beryl. Must be her boyfriend or something. Wasn't exactly the time for it, but whatever. Whatever! Maybe he was still all loopy from the drugs, or the trauma, or the panic, or maybe he was just, like that. Who gave a shit, he wasn't one of the dudes holding a gun. Abe awkwardly waved at him anyways. No harm in being nice.
"Uh. Anyways. How about we all like, chill?" He gestured vaguely towards Beryl. "Any idea what's wrong with her?" Not like Abe had any reason to give a shit, but it couldn't hurt to make it seem like he was a better person than he was, right? Besides, it's not like he wanted her to like, die. Even though that would objectively be better for him in the long run, but like, he wasn't gonna be fucking thinking like that. Not after only like five minutes after waking up in the killzone. He wasn't feral yet, alright? People dying was bad. People died when they died. If you died in real life, you died in real life, and so on.
-
Ruggahissy
- Posts: 1593
- Joined: Mon Aug 13, 2018 4:13 pm
Remember this girl?
Remember?
Remember where you are?
The two were talking above them. It was starting to become clearer. He'd made a really rash decision, he realized. No one was shooting, but it could have turned out worse.
"She has a medical condition," he said closing his eyes and shaking his head a bit, holding on to her still.
He had heard about it. She was on the basketball team with Arizona, but she quit because of some medical thing. It had stuck with him because faced with a similar situation, rather than quit for even a little while, he kept pushing on with baseball. He ended up collapsing in the locker room after the last game of junior year, but he managed to convince the team it was a one-off. Well, he convinced most of them...
Jonah took a deep breath and stood up. He was beginning to get his wits about him again. He leaned down, not taking his eyes off the other two, and picked Beryl up so that he was holding her bridal-style. She was very tall and kind of heavy. Internally he was concentrating very hard on holding her, but he put on a good poker face, pretending that the task was easy and smiling.
"We're all chill here," he said. "Right?"
Remember?
Remember where you are?
The two were talking above them. It was starting to become clearer. He'd made a really rash decision, he realized. No one was shooting, but it could have turned out worse.
"She has a medical condition," he said closing his eyes and shaking his head a bit, holding on to her still.
He had heard about it. She was on the basketball team with Arizona, but she quit because of some medical thing. It had stuck with him because faced with a similar situation, rather than quit for even a little while, he kept pushing on with baseball. He ended up collapsing in the locker room after the last game of junior year, but he managed to convince the team it was a one-off. Well, he convinced most of them...
Jonah took a deep breath and stood up. He was beginning to get his wits about him again. He leaned down, not taking his eyes off the other two, and picked Beryl up so that he was holding her bridal-style. She was very tall and kind of heavy. Internally he was concentrating very hard on holding her, but he put on a good poker face, pretending that the task was easy and smiling.
"We're all chill here," he said. "Right?"
"Hopefully nothing." Henry replied, slowly de-cocking the hammer of the punt gun. If this kid had wanted to shoot him, he'd have done it already. He had the firepower, now that Henry had a closer look. If memory served, that was a P90 - his only point of reference being the television show Stargate SG-1. It looked real enough, but unfortunately Colonel O'Neill and the team weren't there to rescue them.
Tough luck.
Given his reaction to Henry's weapon, he seemed to think that he was at something of a disadvantage much as he knew that to not be the case. That was enough, though. Before long the other boy had started asking more questions, though it was still difficult to discern his motives.
"I don't know. I found her like this."
I need to keep an eye on him. If he's trustworthy I might have another problem solved. Jonah's a good person, Beryl too. I have no doubt about either of them. If we can get her awake, we'll have some safety in numbers. Then we've got to figure out what the hell is going on with this island. Why are there cages?
At the thought of the cages, Henry turned to see Jonah tending to Beryl as evidently he was starting to come to. She had a medical condition. Of course.
How many others are going to be imperiled because they aren't meant to be fighting to the death on a deserted island? This is an atrocity.
Jonah's voice pushed Henry from his thoughts. He eyed the almost comical-looking pistol sticking out of the back of his waistband. Much as he wanted to, Henry couldn't come up with a witty comment about absurdly ostentatious modes of self defense.
"Alright. Yeah, we can chill out. I'm sorry I pointed this at you. I shouldn't have assumed anything, we're all in the same boat here."
He twitched, the sound of distant gunshots reaching his ears.
"We should stand out of this clearing though, closer to the trees. I don't think everyone wants to be chill about this. Jonah, are you alright? Is there anything we can do for her?"
Tough luck.
Given his reaction to Henry's weapon, he seemed to think that he was at something of a disadvantage much as he knew that to not be the case. That was enough, though. Before long the other boy had started asking more questions, though it was still difficult to discern his motives.
"I don't know. I found her like this."
I need to keep an eye on him. If he's trustworthy I might have another problem solved. Jonah's a good person, Beryl too. I have no doubt about either of them. If we can get her awake, we'll have some safety in numbers. Then we've got to figure out what the hell is going on with this island. Why are there cages?
At the thought of the cages, Henry turned to see Jonah tending to Beryl as evidently he was starting to come to. She had a medical condition. Of course.
How many others are going to be imperiled because they aren't meant to be fighting to the death on a deserted island? This is an atrocity.
Jonah's voice pushed Henry from his thoughts. He eyed the almost comical-looking pistol sticking out of the back of his waistband. Much as he wanted to, Henry couldn't come up with a witty comment about absurdly ostentatious modes of self defense.
"Alright. Yeah, we can chill out. I'm sorry I pointed this at you. I shouldn't have assumed anything, we're all in the same boat here."
He twitched, the sound of distant gunshots reaching his ears.
"We should stand out of this clearing though, closer to the trees. I don't think everyone wants to be chill about this. Jonah, are you alright? Is there anything we can do for her?"
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MurderWeasel
- Posts: 2566
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 1:37 am
((Darlene Silva continued from Six bullets. More than enough to kill anything that moves.))
Everyone was all clustered together and not paying much attention to the trees, which was good for Darlene and made her feel a little safer, but also there were a lot of guns, which made her feel very nervous. She was behind a bush, peering out through the scraggly leaves with their serrated edges. It was like each leaf was a little sawblade, all set to shred her body and turn her into a heap of pink gooey paste if she tried to move through them. That was how she imagined it!
The actual chainsaw was very quiet now, though. It was one of the only things Darlene could clearly make out, because it was bright yellow. She could not recognize a single person in the circle.
Darlene was very slightly morbidly horribly concerned about the girl. She was lying on the ground and then a boy came and lay next to her and started hugging her and stuff. But she was unconscious. Darlene knew about consent. You could not consent when you couldn't speak! This was why you didn't take drinks from anyone else, ever, under any circumstances, because then they'd take advantage of you or maybe cut out your kidneys or sell you into slavery. The kidney removal thing was actually probably an urban legend, according to what she read on Wikipedia she thought or maybe Snopes, but the human trafficking was not. Except, right now Darlene thought she would actually rather be kidnapped and sold into slavery then be here to get killed, and that was a really incredibly messed up thing to be thinking.
She rubbed at her eyes again, pushing her glasses up and smudging them by mistake and then letting them fall back down. She wiped at the inner corners by her nose with her right finger and looked at the gooey yellow stuff that came out, pressed her fingers together and then pulled them apart and watched it stretch and then break. Then she wiped her hand on her skirt. Her left hand meanwhile was full of gun, squeezing very tight but with her finger not on the trigger.
There was so much stuff she was carrying. This duffel bag she'd been given was ugly and lumpy and said G024 on the side. The collar was tight around her neck, like a choker, but Darlene never wore chokers because someone in middle school said only slutty girls wore chokers and Darlene didn't believe that but she thought maybe some of the boys might and she didn't want anyone getting the wrong idea. But that meant she wasn't used to how it felt at all. She also had her own backpack, but she hadn't looked in it yet. She knew what was there already anyways.
The boy who'd been cuddling the girl was picking her up now, like she was nothing. And she was huge! She was that big freaky girl, which meant if he wanted he could throw Darlene over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and just walk off with her. That was terrifying. She put her right hand over her mouth and leaned forward a bit more, but not enough to make the bush rustle. Her left palm was starting to get all tingly from how tightly the gun pressed into it.
Everyone was all clustered together and not paying much attention to the trees, which was good for Darlene and made her feel a little safer, but also there were a lot of guns, which made her feel very nervous. She was behind a bush, peering out through the scraggly leaves with their serrated edges. It was like each leaf was a little sawblade, all set to shred her body and turn her into a heap of pink gooey paste if she tried to move through them. That was how she imagined it!
The actual chainsaw was very quiet now, though. It was one of the only things Darlene could clearly make out, because it was bright yellow. She could not recognize a single person in the circle.
Darlene was very slightly morbidly horribly concerned about the girl. She was lying on the ground and then a boy came and lay next to her and started hugging her and stuff. But she was unconscious. Darlene knew about consent. You could not consent when you couldn't speak! This was why you didn't take drinks from anyone else, ever, under any circumstances, because then they'd take advantage of you or maybe cut out your kidneys or sell you into slavery. The kidney removal thing was actually probably an urban legend, according to what she read on Wikipedia she thought or maybe Snopes, but the human trafficking was not. Except, right now Darlene thought she would actually rather be kidnapped and sold into slavery then be here to get killed, and that was a really incredibly messed up thing to be thinking.
She rubbed at her eyes again, pushing her glasses up and smudging them by mistake and then letting them fall back down. She wiped at the inner corners by her nose with her right finger and looked at the gooey yellow stuff that came out, pressed her fingers together and then pulled them apart and watched it stretch and then break. Then she wiped her hand on her skirt. Her left hand meanwhile was full of gun, squeezing very tight but with her finger not on the trigger.
There was so much stuff she was carrying. This duffel bag she'd been given was ugly and lumpy and said G024 on the side. The collar was tight around her neck, like a choker, but Darlene never wore chokers because someone in middle school said only slutty girls wore chokers and Darlene didn't believe that but she thought maybe some of the boys might and she didn't want anyone getting the wrong idea. But that meant she wasn't used to how it felt at all. She also had her own backpack, but she hadn't looked in it yet. She knew what was there already anyways.
The boy who'd been cuddling the girl was picking her up now, like she was nothing. And she was huge! She was that big freaky girl, which meant if he wanted he could throw Darlene over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and just walk off with her. That was terrifying. She put her right hand over her mouth and leaned forward a bit more, but not enough to make the bush rustle. Her left palm was starting to get all tingly from how tightly the gun pressed into it.
"S'all good. Don't blame you for being a bit jumpy, my guy." Of course that didn't mean Abe was happy that Henry was so willing to point a gun at his charismatic face, but like, bygoning was the path to friendship, or at least tolerance. Abe hadn't come here to make friends, haha, but until he found some people he actually gave a shit about these guys would do. Their numbers and guns alone would probably scare away anyone who was looking to make trouble.
Just had to make sure they didn't figure out he was hauling around extra rations and shit. Wouldn't be the end of the world if they did, but, y'know, no reason to get them all excited, y'know? Could probably just feed them some line about finding a ditched bag. Abe hadn't exactly made a habit of lying throughout his life, but it couldn't be that hard, could it?
Abe glanced at Jonah, frowning slightly. Henry seemed reasonable enough, even though Abe was definitely planning on holding a secret grudge about the whole gun thing that'd explode at the worst possible moment. Or at least, he would be if that didn't sound like a lot of work. Beryl was a comatose non-entity for now. But Jonah? He still seemed really out of it, and that was kinda putting him on edge.
"If she's got a condition, should you really be picking her up like that, dude?" He hoped that Jonah was the chick's boyfriend or something, because man he seemed to be weirdly clingy with her. Otherwise things could get messy in a kind of uncomfortable way. "Like, moving out of the open a bit's still probably a good idea, but... yeah."
Just had to make sure they didn't figure out he was hauling around extra rations and shit. Wouldn't be the end of the world if they did, but, y'know, no reason to get them all excited, y'know? Could probably just feed them some line about finding a ditched bag. Abe hadn't exactly made a habit of lying throughout his life, but it couldn't be that hard, could it?
Abe glanced at Jonah, frowning slightly. Henry seemed reasonable enough, even though Abe was definitely planning on holding a secret grudge about the whole gun thing that'd explode at the worst possible moment. Or at least, he would be if that didn't sound like a lot of work. Beryl was a comatose non-entity for now. But Jonah? He still seemed really out of it, and that was kinda putting him on edge.
"If she's got a condition, should you really be picking her up like that, dude?" He hoped that Jonah was the chick's boyfriend or something, because man he seemed to be weirdly clingy with her. Otherwise things could get messy in a kind of uncomfortable way. "Like, moving out of the open a bit's still probably a good idea, but... yeah."
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Ruggahissy
- Posts: 1593
- Joined: Mon Aug 13, 2018 4:13 pm
Henry asked if there was anything they could do and the other boy asked if lifting her was a good idea. He actually didn't really know.
"Um....I'm not sure," he admitted in response to Abe. "She seems like she's still breathing so..."
He shifted, trying to get a better grasp on her.
"Mmm, I guess probably it's a good idea to not be so out in the open."
He scanned around the area surrounding them trying to see if there were any natural paths into the forrest where there might be more cover. After a moment he saw what looked like a face in the foliage. He blinked and squinted, trying to see more detail.
"Is.....is someone out there?" he called out, though not too loudly.
"It's um, Jonah and Henry," he looked down at Beryl, "and Beryl and...." he glanced at Abe.
"Um....A.....Ahh....Aaaaaa.....something A?" he looked at Henry. "Help me out here," he said under his breath.
"Um....I'm not sure," he admitted in response to Abe. "She seems like she's still breathing so..."
He shifted, trying to get a better grasp on her.
"Mmm, I guess probably it's a good idea to not be so out in the open."
He scanned around the area surrounding them trying to see if there were any natural paths into the forrest where there might be more cover. After a moment he saw what looked like a face in the foliage. He blinked and squinted, trying to see more detail.
"Is.....is someone out there?" he called out, though not too loudly.
"It's um, Jonah and Henry," he looked down at Beryl, "and Beryl and...." he glanced at Abe.
"Um....A.....Ahh....Aaaaaa.....something A?" he looked at Henry. "Help me out here," he said under his breath.
It wasn't encouraging that no one seemed to quite understand what was going on with Beryl. If it was something she'd been dealing with before, might she have had some medication for it? He looked to the boy with the ostentatious machine gun.
"We'll need her bag, maybe there's something in there that could help."
Slowly moving to the edge of the circle, attempting to encourage the others to follow, Henry noticed Jonah staring at the edge of the clearing. Someone else was out there.
This might be too much. Was this thing really worth drawing all of that attention for?
Almost as an answer to that question, Henry once again cocked the hammer to the "safe" position. Not all the way, but closer to being ready to fire. His eyes scanning the treeline, he got a glimpse of the person that Jonah had seen. Cautiously taking a stance between her and the others, Henry racked his brain trying to remember her name. Jonah was doing much the same with the boy who had joined them only moments before. The fragment of information was enough for him to recall it.
"Yeah, it's Abraham, right? Watanabe?" A few people at school had asked him if they were related. Now that Henry got a good look at him, he could see why they might've thought that. As for the girl, he was at a complete loss. Though he was sure he'd seen her at school before, he couldn't place where or with whom. They might've had a class together, but she was so unremarkable it was hard to even remember hearing her answer to an attendance call.
An unknown. That's not going to do, I need to know who this is. A reputation, maybe an errant rumor. Something to trust.
There was no way to tell where this was going. Her mousey appearance might've inclined some to give her the benefit of the doubt, but that meant exactly nothing to Henry, not in this situation. Anyone could take a turn for the worse if motivated. The punt gun hung at his side, its still-considerable weight digging the rope his shoulder. He made sure it wasn't pointed directly at the girl. He spoke, his voice remaining as calm and friendly as he could manage.
"Like Jonah there said, my name's Henry Sparks. What's yours?"
"We'll need her bag, maybe there's something in there that could help."
Slowly moving to the edge of the circle, attempting to encourage the others to follow, Henry noticed Jonah staring at the edge of the clearing. Someone else was out there.
This might be too much. Was this thing really worth drawing all of that attention for?
Almost as an answer to that question, Henry once again cocked the hammer to the "safe" position. Not all the way, but closer to being ready to fire. His eyes scanning the treeline, he got a glimpse of the person that Jonah had seen. Cautiously taking a stance between her and the others, Henry racked his brain trying to remember her name. Jonah was doing much the same with the boy who had joined them only moments before. The fragment of information was enough for him to recall it.
"Yeah, it's Abraham, right? Watanabe?" A few people at school had asked him if they were related. Now that Henry got a good look at him, he could see why they might've thought that. As for the girl, he was at a complete loss. Though he was sure he'd seen her at school before, he couldn't place where or with whom. They might've had a class together, but she was so unremarkable it was hard to even remember hearing her answer to an attendance call.
An unknown. That's not going to do, I need to know who this is. A reputation, maybe an errant rumor. Something to trust.
There was no way to tell where this was going. Her mousey appearance might've inclined some to give her the benefit of the doubt, but that meant exactly nothing to Henry, not in this situation. Anyone could take a turn for the worse if motivated. The punt gun hung at his side, its still-considerable weight digging the rope his shoulder. He made sure it wasn't pointed directly at the girl. He spoke, his voice remaining as calm and friendly as he could manage.
"Like Jonah there said, my name's Henry Sparks. What's yours?"
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MurderWeasel
- Posts: 2566
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 1:37 am
They saw her.
Darlene would've been pretty proud of herself that she didn't shoot anything, except she was too frozen even to have pulled the trigger even if she had her finger on it, which she didn't. Maybe that was a mistake. Maybe she should change it and put her finger on the trigger just in case. Maybe she should do something else, like shoot in the air over them so they'd run away. Except, then they'd shoot at her too! Darlene didn't want to be in a firefight. She wanted to be left alone. She wanted to sit here in the bush and watch them until they went away, or until she got scared and left. She was scared now, but she couldn't leave. This was horrible. She'd leaned too far forward and now she was sort of tangled up in the bush, leaves sticking in her hair and twigs pressing into her knees, and she didn't think she could turn around and just run away but she also didn't want to talk to them.
Why did they have to see her? Why did the boy who was carrying the girl have to look her way? And why were the others more interested in her than each other now? She wasn't a threat. She wasn't anything. They were all weird, all of them, standing around revving chainsaws and picking people up and whatever that other guy was doing, she wasn't sure but it had to be weirder than what she was doing because she was normal and she wasn't doing anything.
They were introducing themselves and that meant nothing to Darlene. Nothing! Jonah and Henry and Beryl and Abraham. She didn't even know which was which. It was sort of hard to hear, even, over her own breathing getting faster and faster and the rustling of leaves now as she shifted back and forth. They'd given their names multiple times and she didn't know why. None of these people meant anything to—
Darlene sucked in a big, shocked, sudden breath. She was so surprised she stopped crying. She still wanted to run, but for just a moment the alternative, the interaction she was being forced into, it didn't feel that terrible. It was just a tiny, little, teeny bit okay.
She stood up. It was a slow and awkward process because she was pretty solidly ensconced in the bush and she hoped they wouldn't shoot her but she couldn't think clearly enough to come up with some clever thing to shout to stop that from happening. She was shaking all over and the gun in her hand was tracing wild zigzags and loops but only at the ground.
"J-jonah?" she said. She blinked but the world was fuzzy through several layers of tear and fear and grimy glasses smudge. She took a step to the side, so they could see her better, because they could already see her and she felt just a little itty bit safer but not enough to come towards them, just to not pull into an even smaller ball and try to hide more.
He was still holding the girl. She was hurt, maybe. He was helping her because she was hurt, already. Something awful had happened to her, but not because of anyone here. They were all just trying to do their best with this incredibly terrible horrible situation they were in and they were maybe scared too, just not as scared as she was. They were holding it together like she couldn't because that was just the sort of people they were, she guessed, the sort of people to just help a stranger they didn't even know.
She was a step closer, and the gun felt a little less wiggly now. It was good she didn't have her finger on the trigger because she was holding it so tightly and pointing it right at her feet!
"...you found my sweater."
Darlene would've been pretty proud of herself that she didn't shoot anything, except she was too frozen even to have pulled the trigger even if she had her finger on it, which she didn't. Maybe that was a mistake. Maybe she should change it and put her finger on the trigger just in case. Maybe she should do something else, like shoot in the air over them so they'd run away. Except, then they'd shoot at her too! Darlene didn't want to be in a firefight. She wanted to be left alone. She wanted to sit here in the bush and watch them until they went away, or until she got scared and left. She was scared now, but she couldn't leave. This was horrible. She'd leaned too far forward and now she was sort of tangled up in the bush, leaves sticking in her hair and twigs pressing into her knees, and she didn't think she could turn around and just run away but she also didn't want to talk to them.
Why did they have to see her? Why did the boy who was carrying the girl have to look her way? And why were the others more interested in her than each other now? She wasn't a threat. She wasn't anything. They were all weird, all of them, standing around revving chainsaws and picking people up and whatever that other guy was doing, she wasn't sure but it had to be weirder than what she was doing because she was normal and she wasn't doing anything.
They were introducing themselves and that meant nothing to Darlene. Nothing! Jonah and Henry and Beryl and Abraham. She didn't even know which was which. It was sort of hard to hear, even, over her own breathing getting faster and faster and the rustling of leaves now as she shifted back and forth. They'd given their names multiple times and she didn't know why. None of these people meant anything to—
Darlene sucked in a big, shocked, sudden breath. She was so surprised she stopped crying. She still wanted to run, but for just a moment the alternative, the interaction she was being forced into, it didn't feel that terrible. It was just a tiny, little, teeny bit okay.
She stood up. It was a slow and awkward process because she was pretty solidly ensconced in the bush and she hoped they wouldn't shoot her but she couldn't think clearly enough to come up with some clever thing to shout to stop that from happening. She was shaking all over and the gun in her hand was tracing wild zigzags and loops but only at the ground.
"J-jonah?" she said. She blinked but the world was fuzzy through several layers of tear and fear and grimy glasses smudge. She took a step to the side, so they could see her better, because they could already see her and she felt just a little itty bit safer but not enough to come towards them, just to not pull into an even smaller ball and try to hide more.
He was still holding the girl. She was hurt, maybe. He was helping her because she was hurt, already. Something awful had happened to her, but not because of anyone here. They were all just trying to do their best with this incredibly terrible horrible situation they were in and they were maybe scared too, just not as scared as she was. They were holding it together like she couldn't because that was just the sort of people they were, she guessed, the sort of people to just help a stranger they didn't even know.
She was a step closer, and the gun felt a little less wiggly now. It was good she didn't have her finger on the trigger because she was holding it so tightly and pointing it right at her feet!
"...you found my sweater."
Oh christ, they were being watched. Were they gonna be ambushed? Was it Nona? Had she somehow tracked Abe all the way to the lake? Good job, girl, good job, no hard feelings, right, sorry, you can't have the gun back, I'm afraid you'd shoot me with it, haha! The other two dipshits made introductions like they were at a fuckin' school picnic or something, and while he knew Nona knew what he looked like, he still tensed up when Henry (he knew his name for real now, instead of knowing his name as like, a narrative convenience to avoid referring to everyone as "the dude" for a span of more than one post, you know how it goes) somehow knew Abe's name. They didn't run in the same social circles or anything but whatever, some people were good at that sorta shit, real flattering to be remembered, not like there was a deadly strip of paper he'd left behind to sabotage his shittiest plans or anything.
There was a rustle, and then a girl. A non-Nona girl. Hey there little bush mouse. Little bush mouse with a big revolver, made almost comical by the one holding it if it weren't for the fact that there probably wasn't a scarier fucking thing than a normal-looking girl with tears streaming down her face, clutching a gun in her shaky hands. That was like, fuckin' symbolic wasn't it? Like, the face of soh-tiff? Homeschooled-valedictorian lookin' chick going all psycho and disemboweling someone with a rusty cleaver.
Abe was seriously considering bolting, but the mouse seemed to calm down as she gravitated towards Jonah. Of course, the two complete weirdo messes knew each other. Maybe they'd cancel each other out for a while. Maybe he still would bolt if she stuck around for too long, because their group was becoming a very-gunned crowd, and who knew what the hell Beryl was gonna be like when she woke up? Jonah knew Beryl, Jonah knew this girl apparently, Abe and Henry were left out in the cold of not knowing; and Henry presumably hadn't committed any recent crimes that were already turning rancid and fallow under the sun. Did he really wanna waste time with these complete rando chucklefucks when people he actually gave a shit about were still out there, could be anywhere?
Whatever. He'd play it cool for now. "Your sweater, huh? Very nice of him!" He said with a merry grimace, making sure his gun was pointed at the ground as he concentrated very hard on making no sudden movements.
There was a rustle, and then a girl. A non-Nona girl. Hey there little bush mouse. Little bush mouse with a big revolver, made almost comical by the one holding it if it weren't for the fact that there probably wasn't a scarier fucking thing than a normal-looking girl with tears streaming down her face, clutching a gun in her shaky hands. That was like, fuckin' symbolic wasn't it? Like, the face of soh-tiff? Homeschooled-valedictorian lookin' chick going all psycho and disemboweling someone with a rusty cleaver.
Abe was seriously considering bolting, but the mouse seemed to calm down as she gravitated towards Jonah. Of course, the two complete weirdo messes knew each other. Maybe they'd cancel each other out for a while. Maybe he still would bolt if she stuck around for too long, because their group was becoming a very-gunned crowd, and who knew what the hell Beryl was gonna be like when she woke up? Jonah knew Beryl, Jonah knew this girl apparently, Abe and Henry were left out in the cold of not knowing; and Henry presumably hadn't committed any recent crimes that were already turning rancid and fallow under the sun. Did he really wanna waste time with these complete rando chucklefucks when people he actually gave a shit about were still out there, could be anywhere?
Whatever. He'd play it cool for now. "Your sweater, huh? Very nice of him!" He said with a merry grimace, making sure his gun was pointed at the ground as he concentrated very hard on making no sudden movements.
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Ruggahissy
- Posts: 1593
- Joined: Mon Aug 13, 2018 4:13 pm
Jonah adjusted again, trying to get a better grasp of Beryl, who he felt kept slipping. She wasn't the easiest person to hold on to and was entirely dead weight. In addition to that, they were just standing still, and he had chosen one of the worst ways to pick someone up for extended holding. As gently as he could, he set her back down, placing her so that her head was supported by his bag, which he'd managed to keep out of the water and dry, unlike the rest of him.
"You guys are right. We should look in her bag for meds," he said, as a convenient excuse for setting her down. "Not that I couldn't keep carrying her just.....yeah, meds."
"Sorry," he whispered to Beryl. He really meant sorry for everything. It was an odd violation of personal space to do what he did, but he just felt like he needed someone to hold on to. He realized with embarrassment that his personal needs shouldn't have outweighed the autonomy of another person. She was a human, not a plush toy. Not only was he embarrassed by his behavior, and was also still internally panicking about the situation and angry that this was happening.
As he set her down the other two started also trying to communicate with the figure that was in the bushes. Jonah pulled her bag over and unzipped it. Now that his fingers were trying to perform more precise work, they wouldn't stop shaking. The other boys had also called out to the bushes and after a moment, someone emerged. It was a a girl, which he hadn't been able to tell before. She had a gun that she was holding on to for dear life, but it wasn't positioned aggressively. His heart was beating fast.
And then she said that he had found her sweater.
It broke his terror and disquietude. His mind took a moment to reach back into its files and recall the event. It brought him back to home for a moment and anchored him. He broke out into a warm smile like the sudden bright flare up of a dying light bulb, before slowly and similarly dimming again.
"I'm so glad that you got it back," he sighed. "It probably looks better on you anyway."
"You guys are right. We should look in her bag for meds," he said, as a convenient excuse for setting her down. "Not that I couldn't keep carrying her just.....yeah, meds."
"Sorry," he whispered to Beryl. He really meant sorry for everything. It was an odd violation of personal space to do what he did, but he just felt like he needed someone to hold on to. He realized with embarrassment that his personal needs shouldn't have outweighed the autonomy of another person. She was a human, not a plush toy. Not only was he embarrassed by his behavior, and was also still internally panicking about the situation and angry that this was happening.
As he set her down the other two started also trying to communicate with the figure that was in the bushes. Jonah pulled her bag over and unzipped it. Now that his fingers were trying to perform more precise work, they wouldn't stop shaking. The other boys had also called out to the bushes and after a moment, someone emerged. It was a a girl, which he hadn't been able to tell before. She had a gun that she was holding on to for dear life, but it wasn't positioned aggressively. His heart was beating fast.
And then she said that he had found her sweater.
It broke his terror and disquietude. His mind took a moment to reach back into its files and recall the event. It brought him back to home for a moment and anchored him. He broke out into a warm smile like the sudden bright flare up of a dying light bulb, before slowly and similarly dimming again.
"I'm so glad that you got it back," he sighed. "It probably looks better on you anyway."