Let them go.
That was the answer Raina had been expecting, more or less. You never knew when Johnny would get a wild hair and some kind of idea about what all he was obligated to do beyond the status quo maximum of "as little as possible", but he'd stuck to her expectations this time.
His bringing up Darren jarred her, though. She hadn't thought about her family until Johnny mentioned his. She didn't want to think about her family. Hell, they probably hadn't even noticed she was gone. Her parents were buried in their work, Cameron was knee-deep in final exams at Yale, and Leila was thirteen, enough said. Johnny's parents probably hadn't noticed either. She hadn't missed the way he'd forgone them for Darren. That was status quo too.
Johnny's whole spiel after that might have been the tiniest bit cliched, but it got the point across. He was putting his trust in her. The responsibility of getting them back to their families was on Raina's shoulders now.
Well. She'd think of something.
Raina lifted her chin and met Johnny's gaze steadily. "Alright." Hardly a grand declaration, but it did the job.
"No chasing, then. We might as well hole up here anyway, these rooms are probably as comfy as it gets. If anyone comes along and is friendly and helpful, they can hang. If not, they can buzz off." If they were violent... Raina wasn't sure what they would do. Johnny could posture all he wanted but, as far as either of them could tell so far they were unarmed, and a skinny trailer park rat and out-of-shape nerd were hardly intimidating without anything to back it up.
All the better reason to come up with a plan as soon as possible.
And all of that aside, she wanted to sit down and get this bulky bag off her shoulder. Her hair and clothes were still damp from the tub she'd woken up in. She had no relief from the clothes; she hadn't packed any extra for the day trip, and taking them off to let them dry was right out since the idea of changing in front of Johnny was almost more intolerable than the millions of anonymous eyes that would be watching her from behind the cameras. She could let her hair down and comb it out some, though. More than anything, Raina just wanted to collect her thoughts.
She made a sweeping gesture at the hallway around them. "Take your pick," she said, before remembering that they'd just agreed this wasn't a democracy. "Or I'll pick." She walked to the nearest door and pushed it open, revealing a modest bedroom like the others they'd seen. No broken furniture or blood here, though, so that was a start.
Needles and Pins
Semi-Private
"Art enriches the community, Steve, no less than a pulsing fire hose, or a fireman beating down a blazing door. So what if we're drawing a nude man? So what if all we ever draw is a nude man, or the same nude man over and over in all sorts of provocative positions? Context, not content! Process, not subject! Don't be so gauche, Steve, it's beneath you."
He followed her, trying to keep his mind from the last time they were in a bedroom together. Bad thoughts of bad times. Bad, bad things.
It was spartan inside. Dirty, but not trashed. The other one'd looked like it'd been worked over by a crackhead with a sledgehammer, but this room had just been worked over by time.
Johnny dropped his bag onto the bed and sat down next to it, rubbing the shoulder where the strap had dug into it. He wasn't in the habit of carrying a backpack, and hadn't really lifted anything heavier than the odd stereo in years. He let his hand trail down, over his shoulder and down his arm, feeling the scrawny bicep through the thin fabric of his hoodie. There was probably more bone than muscle there, and even that was unlikely to be up to much, he thought. Johnny had never really been much for drinking milk.
He lent back, letting his head fall onto the mattress. A fog of dust filled the air the second he hit the surface, and the mattress beneath him was shockingly lumpy, but it was dry and it was soft and for the minute, at least, he felt safe.
"Are we hole-d up then, chief?"
It was spartan inside. Dirty, but not trashed. The other one'd looked like it'd been worked over by a crackhead with a sledgehammer, but this room had just been worked over by time.
Johnny dropped his bag onto the bed and sat down next to it, rubbing the shoulder where the strap had dug into it. He wasn't in the habit of carrying a backpack, and hadn't really lifted anything heavier than the odd stereo in years. He let his hand trail down, over his shoulder and down his arm, feeling the scrawny bicep through the thin fabric of his hoodie. There was probably more bone than muscle there, and even that was unlikely to be up to much, he thought. Johnny had never really been much for drinking milk.
He lent back, letting his head fall onto the mattress. A fog of dust filled the air the second he hit the surface, and the mattress beneath him was shockingly lumpy, but it was dry and it was soft and for the minute, at least, he felt safe.
"Are we hole-d up then, chief?"
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Raina did a full 360, turning all around to look at the room they'd picked. Johnny had made himself comfortable immediately and she didn't feel like more wandering, so she supposed this was it for now.
"I guess so."
She could have done without all the dust and the bars on the windows, but this would do for now. This was a room for planning and thinking, not relaxing. Raina set her bag on the floor and crouched next to it, pulling the zipper open. "We should see what we've actually got in these." She rooted around in the bag, pulling things out and setting them aside. Assorted dry foods, water, map, first aid kit.
Grenade.
Raina stopped with her hands halfway in the bag, hovering over the small, greenish-gray object sitting innocuously inside it. There was no mistaking what it was, especially not with the slip of paper confirming it.
Holy shit, Raina had suddenly gotten some serious fire power.
"Hey Johnny," she said in a low voice, "close the door, will you?"
She had a grenade. She had a weapon. Anybody else they came across could have something equally, if not more destructive.
All of a sudden, the idea of being clearly visible from the outside didn't appeal to her.
"I guess so."
She could have done without all the dust and the bars on the windows, but this would do for now. This was a room for planning and thinking, not relaxing. Raina set her bag on the floor and crouched next to it, pulling the zipper open. "We should see what we've actually got in these." She rooted around in the bag, pulling things out and setting them aside. Assorted dry foods, water, map, first aid kit.
Grenade.
Raina stopped with her hands halfway in the bag, hovering over the small, greenish-gray object sitting innocuously inside it. There was no mistaking what it was, especially not with the slip of paper confirming it.
Holy shit, Raina had suddenly gotten some serious fire power.
"Hey Johnny," she said in a low voice, "close the door, will you?"
She had a grenade. She had a weapon. Anybody else they came across could have something equally, if not more destructive.
All of a sudden, the idea of being clearly visible from the outside didn't appeal to her.
"Art enriches the community, Steve, no less than a pulsing fire hose, or a fireman beating down a blazing door. So what if we're drawing a nude man? So what if all we ever draw is a nude man, or the same nude man over and over in all sorts of provocative positions? Context, not content! Process, not subject! Don't be so gauche, Steve, it's beneath you."
It had been about two weeks ago that Johnny had gotten high and looked in the mirror.
It was afternoon on a Tuesday or a Wednesday, everyone had been out and he'd had a spliff, sitting on the roof of the trailer in the last of the Arizona sunlight. He'd gone inside to get a drink or take a piss or whatever, and the mirror had been there and he'd been in it. His face had fascinated him in that moment; the curvature of it, the texture of his skin, the peach fuzz moustache that he wished would grow out. Johnny had looked at his thin nose, he'd looked at his crooked teeth and he'd looked into his own too-large, too-wide eyes and seen there the exact expression that was on Raina's face now.
There was a mixture of wonderment and horror drawn there. It wasn't entirely attractive.
Johnny said nothing, but pushed the door closed, testing the handle to make sure it shut tight.
It was afternoon on a Tuesday or a Wednesday, everyone had been out and he'd had a spliff, sitting on the roof of the trailer in the last of the Arizona sunlight. He'd gone inside to get a drink or take a piss or whatever, and the mirror had been there and he'd been in it. His face had fascinated him in that moment; the curvature of it, the texture of his skin, the peach fuzz moustache that he wished would grow out. Johnny had looked at his thin nose, he'd looked at his crooked teeth and he'd looked into his own too-large, too-wide eyes and seen there the exact expression that was on Raina's face now.
There was a mixture of wonderment and horror drawn there. It wasn't entirely attractive.
Johnny said nothing, but pushed the door closed, testing the handle to make sure it shut tight.
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Raina waited until after she heard the door click shut to touch the grenade. She cupped both hands around it, carefully, and lifted it so that Johnny would be able to see it clearly. Part of her was glad now that Scarlett and Beaks had bailed; she didn't think she wanted anyone in that fragile sort of state around explosives.
God, she was holding an explosive. She could drop it and it might kill both of them. Raina had a dizzying and entirely pretentious urge to quote whoever that had been that made the famous statement concerning the invention of the nuclear bomb. Now I am become death.
A small giggle with just an edge of hysteria escaped Raina's lips and she lowered the grenade back into the bag as quickly as she dared, pulling her hands back to the center of her body as if burned. Her knees were starting to protest from kneeling for so long, and she rearranged herself to sit on the floor.
"So," she said finally, looking up at Johnny and failing to keep a normal tone, "what've you got?"
God, she was holding an explosive. She could drop it and it might kill both of them. Raina had a dizzying and entirely pretentious urge to quote whoever that had been that made the famous statement concerning the invention of the nuclear bomb. Now I am become death.
A small giggle with just an edge of hysteria escaped Raina's lips and she lowered the grenade back into the bag as quickly as she dared, pulling her hands back to the center of her body as if burned. Her knees were starting to protest from kneeling for so long, and she rearranged herself to sit on the floor.
"So," she said finally, looking up at Johnny and failing to keep a normal tone, "what've you got?"
"Art enriches the community, Steve, no less than a pulsing fire hose, or a fireman beating down a blazing door. So what if we're drawing a nude man? So what if all we ever draw is a nude man, or the same nude man over and over in all sorts of provocative positions? Context, not content! Process, not subject! Don't be so gauche, Steve, it's beneath you."
He walked back to his bag and unzipped it.
"Looks like a lotta junk, mostly. Or, y'know, like good shit and all, but nothing that's gonna stop someone comin' at us with hate in his heart."
He glanced over at Raina's weapon. It was old-leaf green and looked plastic, almost fake, but there was a sense of malice that seemed to radiate out of it in waves.
"Or, y'know, twenty someones."
He upended the bag on the bed, it's contents sending up a mushroom cloud of dust and grime.
"Map. Water bottle. Compass. Shitty looking food. Medicine, I guess. Water bottle. Water bottle. Radio-thingy. Some fucking pamphlet. Water bottle. Fuck!"
He threw the now-empty bag at the wall, which it hit with a flaccid sort of flopping sound, and slid to the floor.
"Shit, Ray, you think they forgot to give me anything? Or maybe we left it back in that big bathroom we woke up in, or something? Fuck, should we..."
He paused, and took a breath. Should they what? Go back for it, why? It wasn't like he even wanted a weapon, really; this was his time to get his soul all polished and shiny, he wasn't going to run around shooting kids.
Still, it did seem particularly cruel, after a lifetime of lacking not to even get this.
He hadn't been given looks, and that was fine. he could live without brains, wihtou money and without muscle, without people liking or respecting or trusting him, without his dad ever treating him as worth anything more than dogshit, without Raina ever being interested in him - all that was fine, and Johnny had made his piece with it, but at least it should earn him something. He should have been staring at a fucking... bazooka or something right now, instead of a bagful of worthlessness.
That was how it went, though. Life sucks and then you die.
"Hey, sorry. Little carried away there, yeah? But we're good. Looks like you're gonna be the brains and the brawns of this outfit, though."
He flashed Raina an excuse for a smile.
"I'll just be the beauty."
"Looks like a lotta junk, mostly. Or, y'know, like good shit and all, but nothing that's gonna stop someone comin' at us with hate in his heart."
He glanced over at Raina's weapon. It was old-leaf green and looked plastic, almost fake, but there was a sense of malice that seemed to radiate out of it in waves.
"Or, y'know, twenty someones."
He upended the bag on the bed, it's contents sending up a mushroom cloud of dust and grime.
"Map. Water bottle. Compass. Shitty looking food. Medicine, I guess. Water bottle. Water bottle. Radio-thingy. Some fucking pamphlet. Water bottle. Fuck!"
He threw the now-empty bag at the wall, which it hit with a flaccid sort of flopping sound, and slid to the floor.
"Shit, Ray, you think they forgot to give me anything? Or maybe we left it back in that big bathroom we woke up in, or something? Fuck, should we..."
He paused, and took a breath. Should they what? Go back for it, why? It wasn't like he even wanted a weapon, really; this was his time to get his soul all polished and shiny, he wasn't going to run around shooting kids.
Still, it did seem particularly cruel, after a lifetime of lacking not to even get this.
He hadn't been given looks, and that was fine. he could live without brains, wihtou money and without muscle, without people liking or respecting or trusting him, without his dad ever treating him as worth anything more than dogshit, without Raina ever being interested in him - all that was fine, and Johnny had made his piece with it, but at least it should earn him something. He should have been staring at a fucking... bazooka or something right now, instead of a bagful of worthlessness.
That was how it went, though. Life sucks and then you die.
"Hey, sorry. Little carried away there, yeah? But we're good. Looks like you're gonna be the brains and the brawns of this outfit, though."
He flashed Raina an excuse for a smile.
"I'll just be the beauty."
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"Sure." Raina's voice sounded faint and far away to her own ears. "Hold onto the radio, it might be useful," she added absently.
She closed her eyes for a moment, felt the edge of hysteria threatening to overtake her.
"Okay," she said out loud, ignoring the tremble in her voice once again and relying on Johnny to do the same. "Let's chill for a minute. Sort all of this out. We should pool our resources and... and, maximize productivity, or something. Something useful."
Breathe in deep, get oxygen to the brain. That's all you've got here, all you can rely on. Can't rely on people if they're not already with you, can't rely on them to know what's best for themselves.
Raina opened her eyes and focused on Johnny again. "It's better than nothing. We should stay here for a while and figure out how everything works. Maybe wait until we have more information." The urge to hesitate and hide crept up cunningly, tempting her. It wouldn't do. Not now. They couldn't cling to delusion like Aiden had or encourage it like Scarlett.
"We should... make a list of people we'd want to join up with. We can't spend too much time looking, but if we come across them, we'll know we want them. And then..."
She steeled herself, made her expression and her voice firm. "Then we start figuring out a way out of here."
She closed her eyes for a moment, felt the edge of hysteria threatening to overtake her.
"Okay," she said out loud, ignoring the tremble in her voice once again and relying on Johnny to do the same. "Let's chill for a minute. Sort all of this out. We should pool our resources and... and, maximize productivity, or something. Something useful."
Breathe in deep, get oxygen to the brain. That's all you've got here, all you can rely on. Can't rely on people if they're not already with you, can't rely on them to know what's best for themselves.
Raina opened her eyes and focused on Johnny again. "It's better than nothing. We should stay here for a while and figure out how everything works. Maybe wait until we have more information." The urge to hesitate and hide crept up cunningly, tempting her. It wouldn't do. Not now. They couldn't cling to delusion like Aiden had or encourage it like Scarlett.
"We should... make a list of people we'd want to join up with. We can't spend too much time looking, but if we come across them, we'll know we want them. And then..."
She steeled herself, made her expression and her voice firm. "Then we start figuring out a way out of here."
"Art enriches the community, Steve, no less than a pulsing fire hose, or a fireman beating down a blazing door. So what if we're drawing a nude man? So what if all we ever draw is a nude man, or the same nude man over and over in all sorts of provocative positions? Context, not content! Process, not subject! Don't be so gauche, Steve, it's beneath you."
"That's uhh... shit, I dunno"
Johnny scratched at the back of his head, trying to shake his thoughts into order.
"I mean, ya wanna be that selective? You're sayin' that we meet someone not on our list, they're a no-go? Guess I kinda figured that anyone we come across doesn't wanna kill us, an' isn't a total prick, that person's cool, yeah?"
He sat down on the bed amongst what was now the entirety of his worldly possessions, then leant back, pulling a water bottle out from under his spine.
The ceiling was moldy.
"Shit, I never even got blondie's name, and Scarlett I didn't know from dick, but aside from like, y'know, obvious deficits in the judgement department or whatever, it ain't like there was any harm in kickin' with them, right? No more than with Aiden, anyway."
Johnny swallowed, and thought.
"I get where you're going with this, maybe, but I dunno if it's the best idea, yeah? Making a whole list of all your friends, all the people here, in danger n' shit? That's not gonna make anything better, Ray. That'll just make ya miserable."
Johnny scratched at the back of his head, trying to shake his thoughts into order.
"I mean, ya wanna be that selective? You're sayin' that we meet someone not on our list, they're a no-go? Guess I kinda figured that anyone we come across doesn't wanna kill us, an' isn't a total prick, that person's cool, yeah?"
He sat down on the bed amongst what was now the entirety of his worldly possessions, then leant back, pulling a water bottle out from under his spine.
The ceiling was moldy.
"Shit, I never even got blondie's name, and Scarlett I didn't know from dick, but aside from like, y'know, obvious deficits in the judgement department or whatever, it ain't like there was any harm in kickin' with them, right? No more than with Aiden, anyway."
Johnny swallowed, and thought.
"I get where you're going with this, maybe, but I dunno if it's the best idea, yeah? Making a whole list of all your friends, all the people here, in danger n' shit? That's not gonna make anything better, Ray. That'll just make ya miserable."
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"I'm going to be miserable no matter what, Johnny."
Raina clasped her hands in her lap, frowning down at them. "I'm gonna be miserable, because we're here and people aren't going to keep it together, and we all know that. But I'm not going to just sit around and think about how miserable I am, I'm going to do something about it. And to do that, we need to be pragmatic."
She looked back up at Johnny, eyes imploring him to understand, or to at least practice what he'd been preaching just a while ago and let her take the reins. "I'm not saying we'll turn everyone away who we're not best friends with or whatever, but we can't spend our time searching for people or trying to get everyone to hold hands around a campfire and get along or something if they don't want to. You said it yourself: let them go."
Raina looked back down at the bag, where the grenade just barely peeked out. "We need to focus on the big picture. That means deciding who and what we need, not what we want."
Raina clasped her hands in her lap, frowning down at them. "I'm gonna be miserable, because we're here and people aren't going to keep it together, and we all know that. But I'm not going to just sit around and think about how miserable I am, I'm going to do something about it. And to do that, we need to be pragmatic."
She looked back up at Johnny, eyes imploring him to understand, or to at least practice what he'd been preaching just a while ago and let her take the reins. "I'm not saying we'll turn everyone away who we're not best friends with or whatever, but we can't spend our time searching for people or trying to get everyone to hold hands around a campfire and get along or something if they don't want to. You said it yourself: let them go."
Raina looked back down at the bag, where the grenade just barely peeked out. "We need to focus on the big picture. That means deciding who and what we need, not what we want."
"Art enriches the community, Steve, no less than a pulsing fire hose, or a fireman beating down a blazing door. So what if we're drawing a nude man? So what if all we ever draw is a nude man, or the same nude man over and over in all sorts of provocative positions? Context, not content! Process, not subject! Don't be so gauche, Steve, it's beneath you."
Johnny didn't look particularly convinced, but he couldn't come up with much of a counterargument either. They'd agreed that she would be the leader, after all.
Big picture. Let them go.
Big words didn't always translate to equally big actions. The two of them stayed holed up in their room under the pretense of planning or getting their bearings for the rest of the day. They slept in turns and talked a little, but not about important things.
On the second morning, Raina's big picture ideology was put to the test.
Scarlett was dead. Nancy from the anime club had killed her. No word on what had happened to Beaks.
Tina Luz, Crisanto's cousin, was dead.
Jasmine Reed, also from the anime club, had killed too.
Let them go.
Think of the bigger picture.
Let them go.
On the third morning, Raina had to admit that she'd failed to put any sort of plan in motion. She'd hidden away, told herself she was just brainstorming, and look where it had gotten them. Stuck in the same dingy room they'd found the first day, paralyzed.
Another one of Cris's cousins was down for the count. Nancy, of all people, was a triple killer. Samuel, Penelope's sweet boyfriend, was dead.
And Raina had sequestered herself away in a hidey-hole when she should have been figuring out how to save their lives.
Big picture. Think of what you've lost only to drive you forward. And then let them go.
"Alright, that's enough of that. Let's get the hell out of here and find what we're looking for, Johnny. We're wasting time." She thought he might have been worried about her. She didn't know what to say about it, so she ignored it. She shouldered her bag, careful not to jostle it too much, mindful of the grenade inside. Insurance.
That's all it was. Everything they had could serve a purpose. Take a step back, look at the big picture.
Let them go.
((Raina Rose and Johnny McKay continued elsewhere))
Big picture. Let them go.
Big words didn't always translate to equally big actions. The two of them stayed holed up in their room under the pretense of planning or getting their bearings for the rest of the day. They slept in turns and talked a little, but not about important things.
On the second morning, Raina's big picture ideology was put to the test.
Scarlett was dead. Nancy from the anime club had killed her. No word on what had happened to Beaks.
Tina Luz, Crisanto's cousin, was dead.
Jasmine Reed, also from the anime club, had killed too.
Let them go.
Think of the bigger picture.
Let them go.
On the third morning, Raina had to admit that she'd failed to put any sort of plan in motion. She'd hidden away, told herself she was just brainstorming, and look where it had gotten them. Stuck in the same dingy room they'd found the first day, paralyzed.
Another one of Cris's cousins was down for the count. Nancy, of all people, was a triple killer. Samuel, Penelope's sweet boyfriend, was dead.
And Raina had sequestered herself away in a hidey-hole when she should have been figuring out how to save their lives.
Big picture. Think of what you've lost only to drive you forward. And then let them go.
"Alright, that's enough of that. Let's get the hell out of here and find what we're looking for, Johnny. We're wasting time." She thought he might have been worried about her. She didn't know what to say about it, so she ignored it. She shouldered her bag, careful not to jostle it too much, mindful of the grenade inside. Insurance.
That's all it was. Everything they had could serve a purpose. Take a step back, look at the big picture.
Let them go.
((Raina Rose and Johnny McKay continued elsewhere))
"Art enriches the community, Steve, no less than a pulsing fire hose, or a fireman beating down a blazing door. So what if we're drawing a nude man? So what if all we ever draw is a nude man, or the same nude man over and over in all sorts of provocative positions? Context, not content! Process, not subject! Don't be so gauche, Steve, it's beneath you."