(Kelly Peterson continued from Anger)
The sun had gone down about an hour before. Kelly wasn't very happy about that. The hangar where she and Darren had planned just to rest for a bit after their hike away from the lagoon had now turned into an overnight shelter.
She had scratches along her arms from when she had fallen scaling the slopes, but those were bandaged and not what really bothered her now.
What was bothering her was how creepy the hangar was in the dark. Sure, she and Darren had flashlights, but she didn't see any replacement batteries, and who knew when hers would run out? She didn't like it still, the flashlight didn't illuminate that much, and she still had to see the rusted planes in front of her, just sitting there, abandoned.
It made her wonder where the people had gone.
She didn't want to wonder about it though, as ideas came into her head, each worse than the last. Maybe the people were evacuated after a tsunami and just never came back, or maybe their kidnappers had just killed them all.
Just like they had killed her teachers.
She pulled her knees to her chest as she sat on the cold hangar floor. These weren't the thoughts she wanted to have.
Fear
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Courtography
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JamesRenard†
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((Darren Fox continued from Anger))
The two students hadn't run into anyone since departing the lagoon, and that had been quite a surprise to Darren. There were well over a hundred kids on the school trip, so he imagined that they'd run into at least one of them sooner or later. It was quite a disappointment, but it was also a bit of a relief; while they hadn't found someone to help think up a plan, they hadn't fallen foul of anyone who was actually doing the unthinkable. Which should be next to no one, hopefully.
Darren checked his watch, the hands of which glowed with a faint luminescence in the darkness, and saw it was approaching ten o'clock. He'd been up for around thirteen hours, but it felt like much more time had passed since he first woke up. Wow, thirteen hours. I've actually survived for over half the first day. How did I manage to not get killed straight away?. He sighed loudly and rested his back against the wall, taking deep breaths to try and ward off the tiredness that plagued his mind. He'd been walking for quite a while, and that combined with the heat of the day had left him feeling completely drained. It was cooler now that the sun had set, though, and both he and Kelly had a place to rest for the night. That much Darren was thankful for.
His flashlight lay on the ground before him, switched on and illuminating the area of the hangar immediately ahead of him. His and Kelly's flashlights were the only sources of light, so a lot of the building remained shrouded in darkness. It was kind of creepy, especially with the rusting planes, but they were alone as far as Darren was aware. He couldn't hear anything out of the ordinary - no footsteps, no gunshots, no screaming.
Darren suddenly yawned, quite noisily as well.
"Sorry," he apologised and turned to Kelly. "Starting to run a bit low here. I'm trying to keep awake and keep watch... just not sure if I'm doing a great job of it."
The two students hadn't run into anyone since departing the lagoon, and that had been quite a surprise to Darren. There were well over a hundred kids on the school trip, so he imagined that they'd run into at least one of them sooner or later. It was quite a disappointment, but it was also a bit of a relief; while they hadn't found someone to help think up a plan, they hadn't fallen foul of anyone who was actually doing the unthinkable. Which should be next to no one, hopefully.
Darren checked his watch, the hands of which glowed with a faint luminescence in the darkness, and saw it was approaching ten o'clock. He'd been up for around thirteen hours, but it felt like much more time had passed since he first woke up. Wow, thirteen hours. I've actually survived for over half the first day. How did I manage to not get killed straight away?. He sighed loudly and rested his back against the wall, taking deep breaths to try and ward off the tiredness that plagued his mind. He'd been walking for quite a while, and that combined with the heat of the day had left him feeling completely drained. It was cooler now that the sun had set, though, and both he and Kelly had a place to rest for the night. That much Darren was thankful for.
His flashlight lay on the ground before him, switched on and illuminating the area of the hangar immediately ahead of him. His and Kelly's flashlights were the only sources of light, so a lot of the building remained shrouded in darkness. It was kind of creepy, especially with the rusting planes, but they were alone as far as Darren was aware. He couldn't hear anything out of the ordinary - no footsteps, no gunshots, no screaming.
Darren suddenly yawned, quite noisily as well.
"Sorry," he apologised and turned to Kelly. "Starting to run a bit low here. I'm trying to keep awake and keep watch... just not sure if I'm doing a great job of it."
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Courtography
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Kelly was pulled out of her thoughts by Darren's remark. She was glad he was there, even if she hadn't known him too well back at school. Still didn't, actually, maybe she'd bother to later. It couldn't hurt anyway.
"Oh that's fine, I'm still awake enough. You can nap."
She was too unnerved to sleep right now. Even with the light she kept imagining someone hiding in every shadow. Paranoid much? Maybe so, but like it or not, she couldn't shake the feeling that someone would sneak up on her.
Maybe it would have been better if she'd met anyone besides Darren so far to show her that there weren't psychos out there.
But no such luck.
"But yeah, I can watch out while you're out."
"Oh that's fine, I'm still awake enough. You can nap."
She was too unnerved to sleep right now. Even with the light she kept imagining someone hiding in every shadow. Paranoid much? Maybe so, but like it or not, she couldn't shake the feeling that someone would sneak up on her.
Maybe it would have been better if she'd met anyone besides Darren so far to show her that there weren't psychos out there.
But no such luck.
"But yeah, I can watch out while you're out."
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JamesRenard†
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"Alright, that's cool," Darren said, trying to suppress another yawn. He was still hesitant to fall asleep there and then, but Kelly had assured him she was still going to be awake and alert. That was good news. He was very grateful for her being around to keep him company. Heck he was very grateful in general just to have someone that he could trust. Even if her weapon was about as much use as a chocolate teapot.
Oh, speaking of weapons, I need to give that thing to her.
He reached for his jeans pocket and pulled the railway spike out of it, then slid it along the floor to where Kelly sat. "There's my weapon, you can borrow it..." he trailed off as he yawned again. "Sorry, you can borrow it for the time being. Better than it just sitting there in my pocket while I sleep."
Darren then rested his head back against the wall, wishing the night would give way to daytime soon. Man, this it going to be my first full night out here. God, I hope nothing happens to us here. The thoughts that ran through his mind slowed down to a crawl as fatigue gradually took over.
Then, just a few minutes later, his eyes had closed and he was fast asleep. Oblivious to the world around him.
Oh, speaking of weapons, I need to give that thing to her.
He reached for his jeans pocket and pulled the railway spike out of it, then slid it along the floor to where Kelly sat. "There's my weapon, you can borrow it..." he trailed off as he yawned again. "Sorry, you can borrow it for the time being. Better than it just sitting there in my pocket while I sleep."
Darren then rested his head back against the wall, wishing the night would give way to daytime soon. Man, this it going to be my first full night out here. God, I hope nothing happens to us here. The thoughts that ran through his mind slowed down to a crawl as fatigue gradually took over.
Then, just a few minutes later, his eyes had closed and he was fast asleep. Oblivious to the world around him.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler JamesRenard. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
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Courtography
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It was probably best that Darren was gonna sleep, the guy couldn't seem to keep his eyes open for another minute.
Kelly picked up the spike, it was strange, she thought, who would go out of their way to get one spike or whatever? Maybe there was a sale at the Terrorist Depot, she really had no idea, it just seemed so strange to her. Heck, even the Legos made a bit more sense than a random metal spike.
The spike didn't do anything to remove her anxiety though. She felt like someone could show up at any minute and shoot up the place. She really needed to calm down. If Darren could sleep under the circumstances, she could chill out.
Relax.
Maybe it'd make her feel better if she had a look around the hangar. She took the spike in one hand and the flashlight in the other. It'd make sure she knew once and for all, that nothing scary was in the hangar. Heck, maybe she'd find something good.
That's what she told herself anyway.
Kelly picked up the spike, it was strange, she thought, who would go out of their way to get one spike or whatever? Maybe there was a sale at the Terrorist Depot, she really had no idea, it just seemed so strange to her. Heck, even the Legos made a bit more sense than a random metal spike.
The spike didn't do anything to remove her anxiety though. She felt like someone could show up at any minute and shoot up the place. She really needed to calm down. If Darren could sleep under the circumstances, she could chill out.
Relax.
Maybe it'd make her feel better if she had a look around the hangar. She took the spike in one hand and the flashlight in the other. It'd make sure she knew once and for all, that nothing scary was in the hangar. Heck, maybe she'd find something good.
That's what she told herself anyway.
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Rattlesnake
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((Katarina Konipaski continued from Omphaloskepsis))
Well, it sure was dark.
Maybe, Katarina thought, that was why all the drama and murder and whatnot seemed to happen in the day. No use drawing a bead on someone you couldn't freaking see. Though it wasn't, again, like she was in any hurry to. Slow and steady, sneaky and pragmatic won that race. There was no need to force anything, and indeed, that was precisely what she needed to avoid at any cost. That was the risk, the only pitfall in her perfect, pragmatic plan. Be courteous, be polite, have a plan to kill everyone you meet, but just because you can doesn't mean you should.
Still, a certain anxious thought needled at her. Something they'd said when they were kicking the whole thing off. A kill a day, or they all died. A kill, that was the important part. The things always started out slow, to her memory. She couldn't name exactly how many had died the first day on any of the previous runs, but not a whole lot. And the classes had been larger. Much larger, if a ballpark estimate was right. Two hundred fifty or so had died the last time around, and she didn't think Aurora had that many seniors, even counting those sitting at home as she strode through the darkness, the lucky bastards. And things were more complicated now. The last batch had gotten a rescue, and now anyone too dumb to think things through would be stuck on the old rule. There was a real risk, in short, of a simultaneous detonation come morning. That was a chance, if she had the guts, that she didn't want to leave in anybody's hands.
Her footsteps echoed softly through the hanger.
Well, it sure was dark.
Maybe, Katarina thought, that was why all the drama and murder and whatnot seemed to happen in the day. No use drawing a bead on someone you couldn't freaking see. Though it wasn't, again, like she was in any hurry to. Slow and steady, sneaky and pragmatic won that race. There was no need to force anything, and indeed, that was precisely what she needed to avoid at any cost. That was the risk, the only pitfall in her perfect, pragmatic plan. Be courteous, be polite, have a plan to kill everyone you meet, but just because you can doesn't mean you should.
Still, a certain anxious thought needled at her. Something they'd said when they were kicking the whole thing off. A kill a day, or they all died. A kill, that was the important part. The things always started out slow, to her memory. She couldn't name exactly how many had died the first day on any of the previous runs, but not a whole lot. And the classes had been larger. Much larger, if a ballpark estimate was right. Two hundred fifty or so had died the last time around, and she didn't think Aurora had that many seniors, even counting those sitting at home as she strode through the darkness, the lucky bastards. And things were more complicated now. The last batch had gotten a rescue, and now anyone too dumb to think things through would be stuck on the old rule. There was a real risk, in short, of a simultaneous detonation come morning. That was a chance, if she had the guts, that she didn't want to leave in anybody's hands.
Her footsteps echoed softly through the hanger.
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Courtography
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Kelly had gone along one wall of the hangar when she thought she heard footsteps. She froze, her hand tightening around the spike. She had left her bag over with Darren so she couldn't spill a tub of Legos or something.
Come on, be smart, there's nothing to be scared of.
She breathed out heavily, still somewhat convinced that a deranged psycho would turn her into hamburger.
She slowly started walking towards where she heard the footsteps, her breathing still fast and the spike clutched in front of her. The flashlight kept scanning back and forth, checking every shadow.
It was going to be fine.
Come on, be smart, there's nothing to be scared of.
She breathed out heavily, still somewhat convinced that a deranged psycho would turn her into hamburger.
She slowly started walking towards where she heard the footsteps, her breathing still fast and the spike clutched in front of her. The flashlight kept scanning back and forth, checking every shadow.
It was going to be fine.
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Rattlesnake
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There was a noise that wasn't her, a light not her own. Slowly, steadily, it progressed towards her. Someone else was in there. She slid behind a mass of darker black, a hunk of rusted metal that would never fly again, and waited. The unknown explorer kept their pace, a beam of light shining past here Katarina crouched hidden, scanning deliberately back and forth. Seconds to go before they crested the edge, brought them into full contact.
The air was cool but her skin felt warm, heart beating at a rapid pace, sweat touching her temples. Her chest felt tight, her breathing down to a whisper, legs coiled as at the start of a race. She was aware with sudden clarity how heavy the scythe was, how awkwardly it pulled at her arms, how ungainly it was in its pact with gravity. One grip and then another and a third she tried, but none of them felt quite right. A farmer's tool, not a murderer's, though she wasn't practiced at either.
She could almost see the tip of the flashlight now. Another pair of footsteps would bring it round the bend. No second-guessing, she told herself. Stick with the plan. There would be no choice, anyways. She was too far in. What if the light-bearer had a gun with them? Heck, a sword, even a knife? She'd be functionally blind, caught bloody-handed with a wicked blade. There was no future for her simply standing there. For everyone, she pleaded, a nervous swallow clamped by the bomb around her neck. There was no choice, no choice at all.
She tightened her grip as the stranger came dimly into view, clenched her jaw, and swung.
The air was cool but her skin felt warm, heart beating at a rapid pace, sweat touching her temples. Her chest felt tight, her breathing down to a whisper, legs coiled as at the start of a race. She was aware with sudden clarity how heavy the scythe was, how awkwardly it pulled at her arms, how ungainly it was in its pact with gravity. One grip and then another and a third she tried, but none of them felt quite right. A farmer's tool, not a murderer's, though she wasn't practiced at either.
She could almost see the tip of the flashlight now. Another pair of footsteps would bring it round the bend. No second-guessing, she told herself. Stick with the plan. There would be no choice, anyways. She was too far in. What if the light-bearer had a gun with them? Heck, a sword, even a knife? She'd be functionally blind, caught bloody-handed with a wicked blade. There was no future for her simply standing there. For everyone, she pleaded, a nervous swallow clamped by the bomb around her neck. There was no choice, no choice at all.
She tightened her grip as the stranger came dimly into view, clenched her jaw, and swung.
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Courtography
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As Kelly screamed she knew that it wasn't fine.
She never even saw who had sent metal tearing through her chest. She had dropped her flashlight and the spike and had started flailing.
She couldn't die from this psycho, whoever they were. She just couldn't. Everything was supposed to be okay. She had found shelter, agreed to keep watch while Darren slept. She had done all the right things!
She kept flailing desperately, hoping she could fight the attacker off.
She never even saw who had sent metal tearing through her chest. She had dropped her flashlight and the spike and had started flailing.
She couldn't die from this psycho, whoever they were. She just couldn't. Everything was supposed to be okay. She had found shelter, agreed to keep watch while Darren slept. She had done all the right things!
She kept flailing desperately, hoping she could fight the attacker off.
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Rattlesnake
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Her quick, decisive strike had turned suddenly into something out of a blind man's nightmare. The scream of pain and terror, the clatter of plastic and metal, the sickening wet slice of steel parting flesh. She didn't need to be able to see to know the extent of it all, though her victim's spinning flashlight threw its cone of light in a frenetic pattern like a strobe.
And still, somehow, she wasn't quite dead. The revelation sent Katarina's stomach churning, hair standing up along her arms and down her neck. It took considerable will not to simply flee the scene, let her bleed and die and shriek alone and try to wash her hands of the deed she'd never shake. A frantic thrashing twisted the scythe in her hands. There still lurked a danger, that was the ticket. Let herself think there was the remotest threat so she could do a final service.
With that thought buzzing through her mind she wrenched the scythe away, took careful aim at the girl's throat, and swung again.
And still, somehow, she wasn't quite dead. The revelation sent Katarina's stomach churning, hair standing up along her arms and down her neck. It took considerable will not to simply flee the scene, let her bleed and die and shriek alone and try to wash her hands of the deed she'd never shake. A frantic thrashing twisted the scythe in her hands. There still lurked a danger, that was the ticket. Let herself think there was the remotest threat so she could do a final service.
With that thought buzzing through her mind she wrenched the scythe away, took careful aim at the girl's throat, and swung again.
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Courtography
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Kelly sunk to a heap face down on the floor. She wasn't screaming anymore. She felt so cold. Her body was shivering, but it wasn't enough to warm her up again.
Her thoughts were too jumbled together to make sense of. Who attacked her? Why did she have to die? How long had it been? She couldn't tell.
She tried to roll over to look up. She couldn't do it.
The most she could do was pathetically keep her eyes half lidded. She never thought it would have been an accomplishment to keep her eyes from closing.
She felt almost gone, she had to at least try to get up again; defiantly one of her legs kicked, and then she was still.
Kelly thought she saw a light.
G033: KELLY PETERSON: DECEASED
Her thoughts were too jumbled together to make sense of. Who attacked her? Why did she have to die? How long had it been? She couldn't tell.
She tried to roll over to look up. She couldn't do it.
The most she could do was pathetically keep her eyes half lidded. She never thought it would have been an accomplishment to keep her eyes from closing.
She felt almost gone, she had to at least try to get up again; defiantly one of her legs kicked, and then she was still.
Kelly thought she saw a light.
G033: KELLY PETERSON: DECEASED
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JamesRenard†
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- Joined: Sat Sep 01, 2018 4:55 am
In a perfect world, Darren would have most likely remained asleep right up until the break of dawn. It would have been a chance to recuperate some of his strength, to refresh his mind, and be prepared for the day ahead while Kelly presumably remained on watch for a while. Then once they were both up and well-rested, they would have travelled across the island once more, searching for both allies and a way to get out of the game alive.
Unfortunately for Darren, he didn't live in a perfect world. Far from it, in fact.
He had only been asleep for a few minutes when Kelly's anguished and piercing screams crossed the hangar and pounded his eardrums. Not even a millisecond later, every muscle in Darren's body spasmed and he gasped loudly as the sounds dragged him violently out of his slumber. Darren jerked his head back, having leant forward after drifting off, and banged it hard against the wall behind him.
What the hell?!
It was almost pitch black where he sat - his flashlight had somehow switched itself off after he fell asleep - and Darren's heart was already thumping hard like a drum, as if he'd awoken from a terrible nightmare. The back of his head throbbed in pain, but that was the least of his concerns at that moment. Someone, a female from the sounds of it, had just screamed. Was that... no, it wasn't a dream! Shit, someone really just screamed here! Oh no, oh hell no, something bad just happened, didn't it?! Darren's stomach twisted itself into knots at the revelation and he immediately feared the worst.
"Kelly!"
Darren scrambled in the dark for his flashlight, patting his fingers and palms against the floor in a frantic search for his light source. Not too far away, another flashlight lay on the floor, pointing its beam away from his position. He had no clue if it was Kelly's or not, but an abandoned flashlight seemed to be a bad omen, regardless of who originally owned it.
And she hadn't called back to let him know she was fine.
The hairs on the back of his neck began to rise up. No, no, please be alright. Please be alright!
Darren's fingertips, already starting to become damp with sweat, brushed against the casing of the flashlight and he quickly grabbed hold of it. Even if it was switched off, broken, whatever was wrong with it, he did feel slightly safer holding it close to him. "Kelly, are you okay?!" he cried out again at the top of his voice.
Unfortunately for Darren, he didn't live in a perfect world. Far from it, in fact.
He had only been asleep for a few minutes when Kelly's anguished and piercing screams crossed the hangar and pounded his eardrums. Not even a millisecond later, every muscle in Darren's body spasmed and he gasped loudly as the sounds dragged him violently out of his slumber. Darren jerked his head back, having leant forward after drifting off, and banged it hard against the wall behind him.
What the hell?!
It was almost pitch black where he sat - his flashlight had somehow switched itself off after he fell asleep - and Darren's heart was already thumping hard like a drum, as if he'd awoken from a terrible nightmare. The back of his head throbbed in pain, but that was the least of his concerns at that moment. Someone, a female from the sounds of it, had just screamed. Was that... no, it wasn't a dream! Shit, someone really just screamed here! Oh no, oh hell no, something bad just happened, didn't it?! Darren's stomach twisted itself into knots at the revelation and he immediately feared the worst.
"Kelly!"
Darren scrambled in the dark for his flashlight, patting his fingers and palms against the floor in a frantic search for his light source. Not too far away, another flashlight lay on the floor, pointing its beam away from his position. He had no clue if it was Kelly's or not, but an abandoned flashlight seemed to be a bad omen, regardless of who originally owned it.
And she hadn't called back to let him know she was fine.
The hairs on the back of his neck began to rise up. No, no, please be alright. Please be alright!
Darren's fingertips, already starting to become damp with sweat, brushed against the casing of the flashlight and he quickly grabbed hold of it. Even if it was switched off, broken, whatever was wrong with it, he did feel slightly safer holding it close to him. "Kelly, are you okay?!" he cried out again at the top of his voice.
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Rattlesnake
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Of all the things she thought she'd feel, a creeping, prickling terror was not one of them. But Kelly screamed and then she stopped, and Katarina's hair bristled and pulled up goosebumps along her arms. It was dark in there. So dark. So empty. Uncaring. She'd joked to herself, dubbed it Childmurder Island with a giggling flourish because you could either laugh or cry about it all, but it hadn't sunk in until that moment how desperate and dirty and dangerous it all was. Seconds ago the girl on the floor had been alive and alert, if apprehensive and fearful. But that fear was that some thing, some agent of the darkness would swoop in and extinguish all her hopes, dreams, thoughts, experiences in one bloody strike. A not unfounded fear, because nothing of that remained except the cooling body that had housed them.
She shivered. It was cold in there. And dark. Her jaw clenched, eye twitched, brow rippled, and then she ran it all again because nobody could see the details of her face and call her that spazzy murder chick and spitball about her being dumb or desperate or whatever they wanted to think. Not that she cared, but she wasn't. Desperate or dumb, that is. She was doing things her way and standing for something so she wouldn't fall for anything and she was just so fucking fragile. Maybe some people felt invincible when they killed their classmates, maybe that was why they kept doing it even when it was clearly retarded, but Katarina had never felt so naked. You didn't get any stronger or faster or smarter from murdering someone, you weren't better or smoother or stronger on any other level except for "terrified kid." And all the caution, all the kills and strategy and preparation in the world wouldn't save you when some idiot took a lucky potshot or slipped a knife into your ribcage when you were looking the other way for two seconds or if you just got jumped because you took the wrong bloody turn.
She stared at the figure on the floor, her casual jeans, her shoes and bright white shirt, her neck a mess of pooling black in the frail ambiance of the flashlight. One of those things was not like the other. A call ripped through the air, more startling and nearly as chilling as the girl's dying cry, layered with that apprehensive concern that meant I know you're dead but please, please just don't be. Katarina made no response, and neither did Kelly in the spot she'd claimed until the grand finale. Would she have worn those clothes, Katarina thought as she ripped her eyes away, if she knew she was going to die in them? She scanned the floor for anything of use. A metal spike, long and less than subtle, the source of the clattering amongst the screams - she bowed and picked it up, stuffed it awkwardly into her bag as she fumbled with the scythe. Thanks, Rosemary.
Another shout. She's not okay. She didn't dare say it out loud, though. She's not okay, and you're not okay, and I'm not okay. And there was just one option, one option left as the owner of the voice came closer, and it wasn't to shout and scream and cry and butt her finely-crafted motives against the brick wall of rage and fear and differing perspective and maybe, if she was unlucky, the barrel of a gun. There was, to catch it all, no reason her her to stay there. She wasn't trading words or blows, not when the cloak of night fell upon both of them, when her advantage wasn't clear and brutally overwhelming. A killer she may be, but not a fighter.
She turned and fled into the darkness.
((Katarina Konipaski continued in Part of This Balanced Breakfast))
She shivered. It was cold in there. And dark. Her jaw clenched, eye twitched, brow rippled, and then she ran it all again because nobody could see the details of her face and call her that spazzy murder chick and spitball about her being dumb or desperate or whatever they wanted to think. Not that she cared, but she wasn't. Desperate or dumb, that is. She was doing things her way and standing for something so she wouldn't fall for anything and she was just so fucking fragile. Maybe some people felt invincible when they killed their classmates, maybe that was why they kept doing it even when it was clearly retarded, but Katarina had never felt so naked. You didn't get any stronger or faster or smarter from murdering someone, you weren't better or smoother or stronger on any other level except for "terrified kid." And all the caution, all the kills and strategy and preparation in the world wouldn't save you when some idiot took a lucky potshot or slipped a knife into your ribcage when you were looking the other way for two seconds or if you just got jumped because you took the wrong bloody turn.
She stared at the figure on the floor, her casual jeans, her shoes and bright white shirt, her neck a mess of pooling black in the frail ambiance of the flashlight. One of those things was not like the other. A call ripped through the air, more startling and nearly as chilling as the girl's dying cry, layered with that apprehensive concern that meant I know you're dead but please, please just don't be. Katarina made no response, and neither did Kelly in the spot she'd claimed until the grand finale. Would she have worn those clothes, Katarina thought as she ripped her eyes away, if she knew she was going to die in them? She scanned the floor for anything of use. A metal spike, long and less than subtle, the source of the clattering amongst the screams - she bowed and picked it up, stuffed it awkwardly into her bag as she fumbled with the scythe. Thanks, Rosemary.
Another shout. She's not okay. She didn't dare say it out loud, though. She's not okay, and you're not okay, and I'm not okay. And there was just one option, one option left as the owner of the voice came closer, and it wasn't to shout and scream and cry and butt her finely-crafted motives against the brick wall of rage and fear and differing perspective and maybe, if she was unlucky, the barrel of a gun. There was, to catch it all, no reason her her to stay there. She wasn't trading words or blows, not when the cloak of night fell upon both of them, when her advantage wasn't clear and brutally overwhelming. A killer she may be, but not a fighter.
She turned and fled into the darkness.
((Katarina Konipaski continued in Part of This Balanced Breakfast))
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JamesRenard†
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Darren peered out into the darkness, gazing blindly towards the source of the screams. The only thing visible was the functioning flashlight, and what little of the floor that the small cone of light illuminated. Kelly was nowhere to be seen, and her continued silence only made Darren worry more.
The quiet of the hangar was broken by the sound of footsteps. "Kelly! Is that you?" Darren called out. There was no reply from her as the noises, coming in quick succession, became quieter and quieter before fading altogether. Darren sat in silence with his back pressed against the wall and clutched his flashlight against his chest. He became aware that the temperature in the hangar seemed to have dropped several degrees over the past couple of minutes, yet he was perspiring badly. "K-Kelly...?" he hesitantly spoke,"was that you?"
Still no reply.
The flashlight shook in Darren's trembling hand, and the batteries rattled inside the casing. His thumb slowly reached towards the on/off switch and he clicked it. It didn't turn on. Shit! He tried it again, shaking the flashlight up and down in between each attempt but to no avail. Slowly getting to his feet, he held the broken light source in the tight grip of his sweaty palm. "Kelly... please be alright, please be alright."
Deep down he knew it wasn't going to be alright. She wasn't responding to him, not a peep since that loud scream that woke him up. His head buzzed with thoughts of what could have happened, what kind of scenario had taken place just yards from where he slept.
Not very many of those scenarios ended with Kelly living to tell the tale.
He cautiously approached the working flashlight, careful to not make a sound as he tiptoed along. He listened out for any other sounds, just in case someone was still lurking nearby. Kelly could have been the one fleeing, her attacker may still be here! While that scenario ended with his companion leaving alive, it could very well mean he'd be their next target.
Screw it.
Darren dashed forwards the last few yards and scooped up the flashlight in one go. He turned from side to side, shining the flashlight over the floor, the walls and at least one rusting plane chassis. The smell of iron was now rich in the air, Darren praying that the scent was eminating from a nearby hulk of scrap metal. "Kelly, are you still around?"
He got his answer almost right away. He swung the flashlight round in one direction and finally discovered Kelly as she lay on the floor. The beam of light fell onto her unnaturally pale face, and it reflected off the puddle of deep dark red liquid that pooled around the girl's head.
The blood was still slowly flowing out from her slashed neck and chest.
Darren was only just vaguely aware of someone's screaming. It was loud, ear-piercing, and filled to the brim with unimaginable terror. It actually took him a second or two to realize the cries were coming from his own mouth.
No... no! No! This can't be right! She was alive just minutes ago, how can she be...?
He dropped both flashlights and covered up his mouth with both hands, then started to step backwards away from the body. He felt a strong dizziness take hold almost immediately, as if the hangar had just started to spin around him. In the darkness - no reference points to help him - Darren lost his balance and fell onto his side. His left thigh and hip flared up as they collided with the cold, hard ground, but his brain didn't even react to the impulses. He would have normally cried out in shock and/or pain, maybe even shed a tear from how much it hurt. However, aside from the gasping and panting as he breathed heavily, he didn't make a sound. How... how did this happen? Why did she have to die?
Why did someone have to kill her?
Curled up on the floor with his face now in his hands, Darren started to bawl loudly. His cries and sobs echoed all over the building. Tears dripped from his cheeks as one thought shot through his mind over and over again. Why? About an hour later, exhaustion coupled with the darkness finally sent him to a restless sleep that lasted throughout the night.
Waking up to see her bloodsoaked body, those half-closed eyes that would never blink again, it was a real punch to the gut. Darren yelled out again and quickly scrambled further away from the dead girl until he was back beside the wall.
Oh God it's all real. She's... actually gone...
Darren felt the familiar feeling at the back of his throat and he swallowed, forcing himself to keep down the contents of his stomach. What the hell is going on? Why are we doing this?
The railroad spike was nowhere to be seen; Darren had guessed that either Kelly was laying on it, it was out of view, or whoever killed Kelly had taken it with them. All that remained in sight were the two flashlights, the two bags and Kelly's Lego bucket. Regardless of what had been taken or left, Darren knew that he couldn't remain there. He was not staying one more minute in the same building where Kelly met her end. Not with all that blood that surrounded her.
Darren hastily gathered both bags, as well as the bucket of Legos, and quickly made his way towards the main entrance. He purposefully gave Kelly a wide berth; he couldn't bear to get close to her, not to mention the blood-stained body was already giving off a foul stench that making him want to retch.
He'd believed that people wouldn't take part in the slaughter fest. His idealistic thinking had been proven wrong in less than twenty-four hours, and in quite possibly the most grotesque manner imaginable. Darren stumbled out of the building in a daze and took a couple deep breaths of clean, pure, iron-free air. Before he reached the hangar with Kelly, he'd lamented that they hadn't encountered anyone. Now as he walked away across the airstrip, he wished that they hadn't.
((Darren Fox continued in Meltdown))
The quiet of the hangar was broken by the sound of footsteps. "Kelly! Is that you?" Darren called out. There was no reply from her as the noises, coming in quick succession, became quieter and quieter before fading altogether. Darren sat in silence with his back pressed against the wall and clutched his flashlight against his chest. He became aware that the temperature in the hangar seemed to have dropped several degrees over the past couple of minutes, yet he was perspiring badly. "K-Kelly...?" he hesitantly spoke,"was that you?"
Still no reply.
The flashlight shook in Darren's trembling hand, and the batteries rattled inside the casing. His thumb slowly reached towards the on/off switch and he clicked it. It didn't turn on. Shit! He tried it again, shaking the flashlight up and down in between each attempt but to no avail. Slowly getting to his feet, he held the broken light source in the tight grip of his sweaty palm. "Kelly... please be alright, please be alright."
Deep down he knew it wasn't going to be alright. She wasn't responding to him, not a peep since that loud scream that woke him up. His head buzzed with thoughts of what could have happened, what kind of scenario had taken place just yards from where he slept.
Not very many of those scenarios ended with Kelly living to tell the tale.
He cautiously approached the working flashlight, careful to not make a sound as he tiptoed along. He listened out for any other sounds, just in case someone was still lurking nearby. Kelly could have been the one fleeing, her attacker may still be here! While that scenario ended with his companion leaving alive, it could very well mean he'd be their next target.
Screw it.
Darren dashed forwards the last few yards and scooped up the flashlight in one go. He turned from side to side, shining the flashlight over the floor, the walls and at least one rusting plane chassis. The smell of iron was now rich in the air, Darren praying that the scent was eminating from a nearby hulk of scrap metal. "Kelly, are you still around?"
He got his answer almost right away. He swung the flashlight round in one direction and finally discovered Kelly as she lay on the floor. The beam of light fell onto her unnaturally pale face, and it reflected off the puddle of deep dark red liquid that pooled around the girl's head.
The blood was still slowly flowing out from her slashed neck and chest.
Darren was only just vaguely aware of someone's screaming. It was loud, ear-piercing, and filled to the brim with unimaginable terror. It actually took him a second or two to realize the cries were coming from his own mouth.
No... no! No! This can't be right! She was alive just minutes ago, how can she be...?
He dropped both flashlights and covered up his mouth with both hands, then started to step backwards away from the body. He felt a strong dizziness take hold almost immediately, as if the hangar had just started to spin around him. In the darkness - no reference points to help him - Darren lost his balance and fell onto his side. His left thigh and hip flared up as they collided with the cold, hard ground, but his brain didn't even react to the impulses. He would have normally cried out in shock and/or pain, maybe even shed a tear from how much it hurt. However, aside from the gasping and panting as he breathed heavily, he didn't make a sound. How... how did this happen? Why did she have to die?
Why did someone have to kill her?
Curled up on the floor with his face now in his hands, Darren started to bawl loudly. His cries and sobs echoed all over the building. Tears dripped from his cheeks as one thought shot through his mind over and over again. Why? About an hour later, exhaustion coupled with the darkness finally sent him to a restless sleep that lasted throughout the night.
----
His eyes would barely open the next morning. They were bright red, bloodshot, and stung like mad, almost as if someone had scrapped sandpaper over them while he slept. For a brief moment, he felt like he did the previous morning - thinking that the previous day's events were all just a terrible nightmare. Especially Kelly's murder.Waking up to see her bloodsoaked body, those half-closed eyes that would never blink again, it was a real punch to the gut. Darren yelled out again and quickly scrambled further away from the dead girl until he was back beside the wall.
Oh God it's all real. She's... actually gone...
Darren felt the familiar feeling at the back of his throat and he swallowed, forcing himself to keep down the contents of his stomach. What the hell is going on? Why are we doing this?
The railroad spike was nowhere to be seen; Darren had guessed that either Kelly was laying on it, it was out of view, or whoever killed Kelly had taken it with them. All that remained in sight were the two flashlights, the two bags and Kelly's Lego bucket. Regardless of what had been taken or left, Darren knew that he couldn't remain there. He was not staying one more minute in the same building where Kelly met her end. Not with all that blood that surrounded her.
Darren hastily gathered both bags, as well as the bucket of Legos, and quickly made his way towards the main entrance. He purposefully gave Kelly a wide berth; he couldn't bear to get close to her, not to mention the blood-stained body was already giving off a foul stench that making him want to retch.
He'd believed that people wouldn't take part in the slaughter fest. His idealistic thinking had been proven wrong in less than twenty-four hours, and in quite possibly the most grotesque manner imaginable. Darren stumbled out of the building in a daze and took a couple deep breaths of clean, pure, iron-free air. Before he reached the hangar with Kelly, he'd lamented that they hadn't encountered anyone. Now as he walked away across the airstrip, he wished that they hadn't.
((Darren Fox continued in Meltdown))
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