"So let's just go...together...okay?"
The words had come from Madelaine, whom Adam hadn't seen approach, and frankly, he wasn't quite surprised at that fact. His senses, frankly felt a little dulled since he had watched Hawley die, and while he was trying to reassure Amanda, he wasn't sure if he completely believed what he was saying.
That's so just like me, spouting off bullshit to make other people feel better, when I may not even fall for it myself. But isn't that what the leader's supposed to do? Make sure that the morale of the people he's leading doesn't fall too low? Damn.
Releasing Amanda, he looked at Madelaine, and then back to Amanda again. Blinking, the hurt still showing in his eyes, he smiled weakly at the two girls.
"Together. Fucking eh. Hope...heh...it's like this movie poster I've got on my wall. Fear can hold you prisoner; hope can set you free. Well, ladies...I've got hope on my side, and I do believe that getting out of here is possible. The four of us. We'll get out of here. We'll get out of here, for Hawley...and we'll fucking get Danya. We can do it. We just need to believe, I guess."
Adam shook his head, sighing as he looked over at David, across the way.
"The four of us can do it, I really do believe that, but if we plan on escaping, we need to start moving, as soon as possible. We need to leave, now. Gather up your things, I think we need to start moving to the warehouse. We've been here long enough, it's probably due to become a danger zone."
Outwardly, Adam's words were confident, and it seemed as if, for a second, he had been able to shake the feeling that had come over him. But the girls, nor David had no idea what Adam felt inside. While his words may have been confident, inside, Adam was have quite the internal battle over his feelings.
And so this is the way that things are going to go. We're going to move from place to place, move all over this goddamned island, and we're going to leave poor Hawley here. We're going to leave him here and let him rot. After all that he did for us, that's all that we can do in the end. And that's all that, if we're not successful, is going to happen to all of us. We'll drop, one by one, and have to leave each other behind. Into sightless and soulless oblivion, until one of us remains. And what then? Do the soldiers come out and blow the winner away? Do they take him and dump him on some side street? For all I know, the winner could be left on the island to fend for themselves. Sure, you win, but do you really WIN? Danya's got such a tight setup here, nobody probably even knows where this fucking island is. And nobody knows that we're even here, I bet. Nobody knows that we're all in various states of injury. Nobody knows that Hawley's lying over there, rotting. Nobody knows, they can't. Unless they turn on their TV, and they think that it's some kind of game-show. Some new sitcom. You didn't see the folks on Everybody Loves Raymond shooting each other. Although, if they had, I wouldn't have complained. People will think it's some new fad. I mean, come on. Wouldn't the government have done something by now? Hm? Can't anybody do anything?
Suddenly, Adam blinked, and he knew what he had to do, before anything. As Madelaine and Amanda had begun to gather up their things, Adam put his hand up.
"Wait...hold on one second. We can't leave yet..."
Calculating in his mind how it could be done, Adam thought it over, and surmised that while difficult, it could potentially be done. He knew that before he could do anything, before he could leave this place...it was something he had to do...
"Guys...we've got to bury him."
"Though we may not survive it..."
-
LadyMakaze†
- Posts: 475
- Joined: Fri Aug 17, 2018 9:48 pm
"Guys...we've got to bury him."
Madelaine's smile faded slightly as she remembered Hawley, how he had died, and the remnant he had left behind before departing this island, which was lying on the ground nearby, still and motionless, looking almost peaceful now, in spite of a world of strife around him.
"You're....you're right..." she said quietly, looking towards Adam again. "It's the least we can do for him now, right...?" Once again she felt a pang of regret as she looked at Hawley again. There was nothing they could do for him now, except this.
She crouched down and peered over what looked like a soft patch of earth, although the work involved in carving a suitable indentation into the ground seemed almost immense. But still...Adam felt that this was something they should do, and even Madelaine had to admit, she felt the same way too.
Experimentally, she began to claw a bit at the earth with her barehand, feeling the dirt sinking into her nails, staining her sleeve dark black, scraping against the flesh of her fingers.... it was an ugly feeling. But it was no less pleasant than the knowledge of what she was actually doing right now....
Oh my God. I'm sixteen years old and I'm digging a grave for a friend. I'm a high school sophomore, and this is what I'm doing.
Will I have to dig another grave like this? For another friend? Or perhaps...my own?
After carving a small hole into the earth, she sighed and gave up working with bare hands alone. Looking around, she stood and wandered over to where the corpse of Blaine Eno was lying. It was not long before she returned to where her friends were. Clasped in her now dirt-stained hand was the hand axe that had belonged to the student who had fallen long ago.
Working with the hand axe was little easier than working with bare hands alone. Clumsily, she scraped at the earth with a tool that was clearly unsuitable for such purposes. Her frustration grew, and began to reveal itself with time. But it was not the amount of work involved, or the dirt that was now staining further up her sleeves and the hem of her skirt, that brought her on the verge of tears.
Madelaine's smile faded slightly as she remembered Hawley, how he had died, and the remnant he had left behind before departing this island, which was lying on the ground nearby, still and motionless, looking almost peaceful now, in spite of a world of strife around him.
"You're....you're right..." she said quietly, looking towards Adam again. "It's the least we can do for him now, right...?" Once again she felt a pang of regret as she looked at Hawley again. There was nothing they could do for him now, except this.
She crouched down and peered over what looked like a soft patch of earth, although the work involved in carving a suitable indentation into the ground seemed almost immense. But still...Adam felt that this was something they should do, and even Madelaine had to admit, she felt the same way too.
Experimentally, she began to claw a bit at the earth with her barehand, feeling the dirt sinking into her nails, staining her sleeve dark black, scraping against the flesh of her fingers.... it was an ugly feeling. But it was no less pleasant than the knowledge of what she was actually doing right now....
Oh my God. I'm sixteen years old and I'm digging a grave for a friend. I'm a high school sophomore, and this is what I'm doing.
Will I have to dig another grave like this? For another friend? Or perhaps...my own?
After carving a small hole into the earth, she sighed and gave up working with bare hands alone. Looking around, she stood and wandered over to where the corpse of Blaine Eno was lying. It was not long before she returned to where her friends were. Clasped in her now dirt-stained hand was the hand axe that had belonged to the student who had fallen long ago.
Working with the hand axe was little easier than working with bare hands alone. Clumsily, she scraped at the earth with a tool that was clearly unsuitable for such purposes. Her frustration grew, and began to reveal itself with time. But it was not the amount of work involved, or the dirt that was now staining further up her sleeves and the hem of her skirt, that brought her on the verge of tears.
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Amanda felt numb as she watched Madelaine begin to claw at the ground with the handaxe, looking to make a hole big enough to bury their deceased comrade in. This, she figured, was probably something that, if someone playing stumbled upon them, could lead to their deaths, but Madelaine was right; Adam was right. It had to be done. Suppose some wild animal came along and started knawing at Hawley's corpse? It just wouldn't seem right, after all that their late friend had done for them. Sighing, her eyes still welling up a little, she dropped to her knees and began to claw at the ground with the machete that she had in her pack. Shoving the dirt off to the side, she couldn't meet eyes with Madelaine, or Adam; who had just dropped to his knees and was digging at the dirt with a ferocity that she'd never seen out of him.
Sure, maybe it's a stupid idea, but it's the best we can do...
Tossing the dirt to the side, she wondered how long it would take for them to dig a hole that was appropriate. It was a shame that nobody had a shovel, that would have come in handy right about now.
I can't believe we're burying him...
~~~
Yeah, so that's that. Way to go, Adam. Your leadership really served you well. And oh, look at that, you started off with six people to protect, to lead, and one of them died, and the other looks to be in a coma, if he isn't dead already. Man, bang up fucking job there, Dodd. You should be nominated for leader of the fucking year. What makes you think that you can even get the four of you out of here, and off the island. What makes you think you can even make it out with Amanda, less anyone else? There's one sure way off the island, and you know what it is...you know that to get out, you have to do one thing, and that's outlast everyone else. Even her.
The dirt flew to the side, as Adam dug like a man possessed. He said not a word, for he was far too busy for any oral contact with anyone else.
No, you're wrong. Hawley was already injured, and if he'd treated his own wounds before getting to everyone else he might still be around. Marcus, he got torn up pretty badly, it was bound to happen. But in any good campaign there are casualties, but I promised Amanda, I promised Madelaine, I promised David. I promised them that I'd get them out, and that's exactly what I'm going to do. Fuck Danya. Fuck him. Danya? He ain't got shit on me. Sure, he sits in his chair pushing buttons, deciding whether or not our necks explode, but seriously, when push comes to shove, when I'm standing there in front of him with my three friends, sticking a gun in his face and telling him to beg for his fucking life, well, who's so big and mighty then? All he has to do is sit in a chair and let others do his dirty work. I haven't seen him do shit yet. Nothing. Nothing except come on his loudspeaker and taunt us. If he really wanted to challenge us, maybe he'd actually come down here, and fight us, fight me one on one.
Adam watched himself dig as he saw the hole get bigger and bigger, deeper and deeper. Madelaine and Amanda were making progress as well, and soon the hole would be big enough to bury their friend in.
But you're wrong. Danya's the smart one. Other people do his work and he doesn't even have to get his hands dirty. Even you've done his work. You killed Blaine. And that, my friend, is you doing his dirty work. Your hands are as dirty, hell, they're more dirty than his. Your hands have blood on them, while his only have dust from pushing those so-called buttons. Fact is, you're more guilty than he is, and you know it. He's smart, he isn't in any danger at all, and if the government finds him, he pushes a button and you all die. How much smarter can you get?
Finally, it seemed to Adam that his end of the hole was becoming deep enough to lay a body in. Shifting position, he moved over to the end of the hole that Madelaine and Amanda were working on and began to dig.
Fuck off. That's so wrong, you don't even know. Danya's a sick, demented man with no soul. He's a complete sociopath. He doesn't care if anyone lives or dies out here. He's watching with complete amusement, but his hands are bloodier than mine will ever be. He's responsible for thirty-plus deaths, and by the end of this, probably many more. When the police catch him - fuck, when I catch him, he's going to be the most pathetic man in the entire world, because his whole illusion of power's gonna come crashing down on him. And sure, if I get out, and I can't find him, then fine. I'll find his family. I'll find those that HE cares about. He's pushed me to the edge, and I'm just about falling off. He wants to take my friends, my life away from me? Well when I get out, if he's not caught, I'm going to make it my personal mission to take his life away from him. That'll be personal mission number two. And until then? Well, making sure Amanda, making sure the girl that I love gets out safely. Making sure that Madelaine and David escape as well. The four of us...we're a group. We're tighter than Helena Van Garrett was, and we're in to the end. So fuck off. Don't tell me what's going to happen until it happens. Danya's taken everything away from me, he's stripped me down to my bare elements. All I have left is my mind, and my optimism. And that is something he'll never take away.
Never.
Standing up from the hole that he had dug, Adam looked over at Hawley's body, lying a few feet away. Looking at the hole, he nodded.
"I think that's deep enough. Come on, I'm going to need some help to carry him."
Adam looked at the girls, and at David, that twinkle in his eyes seemingly back. Sure, the hurt was still there, but that spirit, that fighting spirit that embodied Adam and all that he stood for - that had returned, and Adam hoped that it was here to stay.
Sure, maybe it's a stupid idea, but it's the best we can do...
Tossing the dirt to the side, she wondered how long it would take for them to dig a hole that was appropriate. It was a shame that nobody had a shovel, that would have come in handy right about now.
I can't believe we're burying him...
~~~
Yeah, so that's that. Way to go, Adam. Your leadership really served you well. And oh, look at that, you started off with six people to protect, to lead, and one of them died, and the other looks to be in a coma, if he isn't dead already. Man, bang up fucking job there, Dodd. You should be nominated for leader of the fucking year. What makes you think that you can even get the four of you out of here, and off the island. What makes you think you can even make it out with Amanda, less anyone else? There's one sure way off the island, and you know what it is...you know that to get out, you have to do one thing, and that's outlast everyone else. Even her.
The dirt flew to the side, as Adam dug like a man possessed. He said not a word, for he was far too busy for any oral contact with anyone else.
No, you're wrong. Hawley was already injured, and if he'd treated his own wounds before getting to everyone else he might still be around. Marcus, he got torn up pretty badly, it was bound to happen. But in any good campaign there are casualties, but I promised Amanda, I promised Madelaine, I promised David. I promised them that I'd get them out, and that's exactly what I'm going to do. Fuck Danya. Fuck him. Danya? He ain't got shit on me. Sure, he sits in his chair pushing buttons, deciding whether or not our necks explode, but seriously, when push comes to shove, when I'm standing there in front of him with my three friends, sticking a gun in his face and telling him to beg for his fucking life, well, who's so big and mighty then? All he has to do is sit in a chair and let others do his dirty work. I haven't seen him do shit yet. Nothing. Nothing except come on his loudspeaker and taunt us. If he really wanted to challenge us, maybe he'd actually come down here, and fight us, fight me one on one.
Adam watched himself dig as he saw the hole get bigger and bigger, deeper and deeper. Madelaine and Amanda were making progress as well, and soon the hole would be big enough to bury their friend in.
But you're wrong. Danya's the smart one. Other people do his work and he doesn't even have to get his hands dirty. Even you've done his work. You killed Blaine. And that, my friend, is you doing his dirty work. Your hands are as dirty, hell, they're more dirty than his. Your hands have blood on them, while his only have dust from pushing those so-called buttons. Fact is, you're more guilty than he is, and you know it. He's smart, he isn't in any danger at all, and if the government finds him, he pushes a button and you all die. How much smarter can you get?
Finally, it seemed to Adam that his end of the hole was becoming deep enough to lay a body in. Shifting position, he moved over to the end of the hole that Madelaine and Amanda were working on and began to dig.
Fuck off. That's so wrong, you don't even know. Danya's a sick, demented man with no soul. He's a complete sociopath. He doesn't care if anyone lives or dies out here. He's watching with complete amusement, but his hands are bloodier than mine will ever be. He's responsible for thirty-plus deaths, and by the end of this, probably many more. When the police catch him - fuck, when I catch him, he's going to be the most pathetic man in the entire world, because his whole illusion of power's gonna come crashing down on him. And sure, if I get out, and I can't find him, then fine. I'll find his family. I'll find those that HE cares about. He's pushed me to the edge, and I'm just about falling off. He wants to take my friends, my life away from me? Well when I get out, if he's not caught, I'm going to make it my personal mission to take his life away from him. That'll be personal mission number two. And until then? Well, making sure Amanda, making sure the girl that I love gets out safely. Making sure that Madelaine and David escape as well. The four of us...we're a group. We're tighter than Helena Van Garrett was, and we're in to the end. So fuck off. Don't tell me what's going to happen until it happens. Danya's taken everything away from me, he's stripped me down to my bare elements. All I have left is my mind, and my optimism. And that is something he'll never take away.
Never.
Standing up from the hole that he had dug, Adam looked over at Hawley's body, lying a few feet away. Looking at the hole, he nodded.
"I think that's deep enough. Come on, I'm going to need some help to carry him."
Adam looked at the girls, and at David, that twinkle in his eyes seemingly back. Sure, the hurt was still there, but that spirit, that fighting spirit that embodied Adam and all that he stood for - that had returned, and Adam hoped that it was here to stay.
David had been silent since Madelaine had told him and Amanda of Hawley's death. Really, it was the only thing he could do. Nothing he said would help, and he'd probably just get in the way if he tried, or worse, offend one of his three comrades. So instead, he resigned himself to standing guard while the other three buried Hawley. Even though you couldn't tell by looking at him, he had taken some serious emotional blows, even worse wounds than the ones caused to his body. Hawley's death was the icing on the foul tasting cake of SOTF. In other circumstances, a different, less jaded and hardened David would've cried. In fact, David really wanted to, but he couldn't.
No. Only the weak cry. The strong move on. I can't be weak for Amanda. Nor can I be weak for Adam and Madelaine. I have to be strong!
No. Only the weak cry. The strong move on. I can't be weak for Amanda. Nor can I be weak for Adam and Madelaine. I have to be strong!
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LadyMakaze†
- Posts: 475
- Joined: Fri Aug 17, 2018 9:48 pm
After what seemed like hours, Madelaine finally drew back and breathed out a sigh of half-hearted satisfaction as she surveyed the work they had done. For a while, she just stared at it in silence, absorbing the sight for a while. It all seemed surreal... she had never buried a dead person before. But than again, before everything started she had never handled a gun or shot anyone before.
Always a first time for everything, after all.
And hopefully...hopefully this will be the last. She thought wearily to herself, automatically moving towards Hawley's corpse, as though Adam's orders had been her cue.
Madelaine paused as soon as she reached her friend, now fallen. Once again, a pang struck her heart, but she brushed it away, though she couldn't help think, And just a few minutes before, he was talking to us...bleeding, breathing...simply living. Now there's just a shell of him in front of me. For a while she just stared at him, wishing he would move again, breathe and talk again...live again.
She shook her head, struggling to push away the thought. Never again.
First she brushed away the dirt from her hands. Then she extracted a clean handkerchief from her blazer's breastpocket (she always kept a few clean spares). Gently, she wiped the blood that had stained the edges of his mouth when Hawley had coughed it up. It improved his appearance a little...despite the lack of breathing, he looked as though he was merely sleeping. But nothing could change the plain and simple fact that he was now dead.
Gently, she moved over to take ahold of the back of his shoulders, ready to set him in the newly formed grave with Adam and Amanda's help.
Always a first time for everything, after all.
And hopefully...hopefully this will be the last. She thought wearily to herself, automatically moving towards Hawley's corpse, as though Adam's orders had been her cue.
Madelaine paused as soon as she reached her friend, now fallen. Once again, a pang struck her heart, but she brushed it away, though she couldn't help think, And just a few minutes before, he was talking to us...bleeding, breathing...simply living. Now there's just a shell of him in front of me. For a while she just stared at him, wishing he would move again, breathe and talk again...live again.
She shook her head, struggling to push away the thought. Never again.
First she brushed away the dirt from her hands. Then she extracted a clean handkerchief from her blazer's breastpocket (she always kept a few clean spares). Gently, she wiped the blood that had stained the edges of his mouth when Hawley had coughed it up. It improved his appearance a little...despite the lack of breathing, he looked as though he was merely sleeping. But nothing could change the plain and simple fact that he was now dead.
Gently, she moved over to take ahold of the back of his shoulders, ready to set him in the newly formed grave with Adam and Amanda's help.
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With a heavy heart, Adam walked over to where Madelaine was about ready to take ahold of Hawley's armpits, and placed a hand on her shoulder. He was careful not to brush any of her wounds, but he looked right at her with a very serious expression on his face. His words, however, were of the calming variety, and the tone of his voice told the other occupants of the valley that internally, he may have been perhaps doing a little better than the others, most of whom were engrossed in their own thoughts for the most part. Sure, Adam had been as well, but he had (for the time being, anyways) resolved his internal struggle, and just hoped that it wouldn't resurface at a later date.
Knowing me it'll come up at just the wrong time...but fuck it, who cares. I'll cross that bridge when I come to it.
"Madelaine...you're hurt. Why don't you grab his feet, and let me deal with the heavy part?"
Adam wasn't trying to be sexist, actually quite the contrary. The last thing he needed was the bullet wounds that Madelaine had recieved opening back up and causing her more injuries than she already had. Sure, he had a wound himself, but it was starting to feel a lot better, and while it still occasionally throbbed, Hawley had done quite a masterful stitching job on it.
Damnit, Hawley. That's one skill of yours that none of us have...we get shot, and we could be fucked...
Waiting for Madelaine to move away from the shoulders, he motioned to Amanda, still standing over the hole.
"Amanda...come help us out, would 'ya? We need to do this together."
Together is how we need to do it, and together is the only way we're going to stay alive. And unless we don't bury Hawley together, then we won't be able to get closure...Fucking eh, Hawley Faust.
Fucking eh indeed.
Knowing me it'll come up at just the wrong time...but fuck it, who cares. I'll cross that bridge when I come to it.
"Madelaine...you're hurt. Why don't you grab his feet, and let me deal with the heavy part?"
Adam wasn't trying to be sexist, actually quite the contrary. The last thing he needed was the bullet wounds that Madelaine had recieved opening back up and causing her more injuries than she already had. Sure, he had a wound himself, but it was starting to feel a lot better, and while it still occasionally throbbed, Hawley had done quite a masterful stitching job on it.
Damnit, Hawley. That's one skill of yours that none of us have...we get shot, and we could be fucked...
Waiting for Madelaine to move away from the shoulders, he motioned to Amanda, still standing over the hole.
"Amanda...come help us out, would 'ya? We need to do this together."
Together is how we need to do it, and together is the only way we're going to stay alive. And unless we don't bury Hawley together, then we won't be able to get closure...Fucking eh, Hawley Faust.
Fucking eh indeed.
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LadyMakaze†
- Posts: 475
- Joined: Fri Aug 17, 2018 9:48 pm
Startled, Madelaine turned to look at the person who had placed a hand upon her shoulder and found herself face to face with Adam, who was wearing a solemn expression on his face, unsurprisingly owing to their current circumstances.
In truth, Madelaine had all but forgotten about her wounds until now, and it was only when Adam had reminded her that she finally remembered them. Absently, her fingers met the bandage on her cheek, then the one her back and the one near her collar. Now that she took time to actually pay attention to them...she felt them aching slightly, mostly where the two bullets were still buried in her wounds.
Shot three times, and I'm still alive... she thought incredulously. Once again, thanks to Hawley. If it weren't for him...
She interrupted her own thoughts as she nodded towards Adam, lacking the energy to argue otherwise. Silently she moved over and took ahold underneath Hawley's ankles, moving upwards slightly to lift him up a bit, ready to move according to Adam's movements.
...how is it, that after being the one to look after all of us, take care of all of us, probably saved my life by doing so, even, that he ended up dying in the end? Fair really doesn't play into this...not in this game, not in even in life itself.
In truth, Madelaine had all but forgotten about her wounds until now, and it was only when Adam had reminded her that she finally remembered them. Absently, her fingers met the bandage on her cheek, then the one her back and the one near her collar. Now that she took time to actually pay attention to them...she felt them aching slightly, mostly where the two bullets were still buried in her wounds.
Shot three times, and I'm still alive... she thought incredulously. Once again, thanks to Hawley. If it weren't for him...
She interrupted her own thoughts as she nodded towards Adam, lacking the energy to argue otherwise. Silently she moved over and took ahold underneath Hawley's ankles, moving upwards slightly to lift him up a bit, ready to move according to Adam's movements.
...how is it, that after being the one to look after all of us, take care of all of us, probably saved my life by doing so, even, that he ended up dying in the end? Fair really doesn't play into this...not in this game, not in even in life itself.
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"Fairness doesn't have anything to do with it, Madelaine."
Adam's voice broke the silence that overcame the valley as Madelaine moved to grasp Hawley's ankles. Adam couldn't tell exactly how he knew. Perhaps it was the look on her face, perhaps it was the tell-tale look of disgust in her eyes, perhaps it was just situational circumstance, and perhaps it was just a guess. But Adam Dodd, at that moment, seemed to say exactly what Madelaine was thinking.
"...this game..." he continued, "...it's not about fair or foul. It's really about one thing, and that's survival. Fairness doesn't play into who survives or not. That's the one thing about bullets. They don't strike with prejudice. They don't aim for a certan person. Bullets kill without remorse. Humans have adapted to whatever their situations were for hundreds of thousands of years. Problem is, many times, the situations weren't fair...but always, in the end, they ended up adapting. That's what we're great at, that's what our species thrives at: adapting to new situations."
Adam paused, and decided against waiting any longer. Amanda seemed to be rooted to the spot, her eyes looking vacant. The girl was probably having a bit of an internal struggle, and that was fine with him. It was bound to happen after such a painful event like Hawley's death, and he knew that Amanda WOULD bounce back, stronger than ever. She was that kind of person.
"Okay...we've got to lift him...one...two...three!"
On three, Adam lifted Hawley by the armpits, the dead boy weighing a lot more than Adam expected him to. Stepping over towards the hole, Adam quickly maneuvered it so that Hawley's midsection was over the hole. Madelaine did the same with Hawley's legs, and the two slowly lowered him into the hole that they had dug for him. As they finished lowering Hawley into the hole, Adam folded the boy's arms over his chest, and propped his head up with the shirt that he had previously used to do so. Standing up again, Adam looked at Madelaine, and then motioned for David to come over from his lookout spot. Amanda was still at the hole, watching in silence as they lowered his body into the makeshift grave.
Adam stood in silence for a moment, and then opened his mouth.
"Well, uh...does anyone want to say a few words?"
Adam's voice broke the silence that overcame the valley as Madelaine moved to grasp Hawley's ankles. Adam couldn't tell exactly how he knew. Perhaps it was the look on her face, perhaps it was the tell-tale look of disgust in her eyes, perhaps it was just situational circumstance, and perhaps it was just a guess. But Adam Dodd, at that moment, seemed to say exactly what Madelaine was thinking.
"...this game..." he continued, "...it's not about fair or foul. It's really about one thing, and that's survival. Fairness doesn't play into who survives or not. That's the one thing about bullets. They don't strike with prejudice. They don't aim for a certan person. Bullets kill without remorse. Humans have adapted to whatever their situations were for hundreds of thousands of years. Problem is, many times, the situations weren't fair...but always, in the end, they ended up adapting. That's what we're great at, that's what our species thrives at: adapting to new situations."
Adam paused, and decided against waiting any longer. Amanda seemed to be rooted to the spot, her eyes looking vacant. The girl was probably having a bit of an internal struggle, and that was fine with him. It was bound to happen after such a painful event like Hawley's death, and he knew that Amanda WOULD bounce back, stronger than ever. She was that kind of person.
"Okay...we've got to lift him...one...two...three!"
On three, Adam lifted Hawley by the armpits, the dead boy weighing a lot more than Adam expected him to. Stepping over towards the hole, Adam quickly maneuvered it so that Hawley's midsection was over the hole. Madelaine did the same with Hawley's legs, and the two slowly lowered him into the hole that they had dug for him. As they finished lowering Hawley into the hole, Adam folded the boy's arms over his chest, and propped his head up with the shirt that he had previously used to do so. Standing up again, Adam looked at Madelaine, and then motioned for David to come over from his lookout spot. Amanda was still at the hole, watching in silence as they lowered his body into the makeshift grave.
Adam stood in silence for a moment, and then opened his mouth.
"Well, uh...does anyone want to say a few words?"
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LadyMakaze†
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As Madelaine stared at the boy now lying in the grave with his arms folded across his chest, thoughts flooded her mind as she recalled what Adam had told her only a few seconds ago, as though he had read her very thoughts. But then again...in a time like this, their thoughts were the same. They felt the same emotions, shared the same tears.
Nothing is fair... she thought to herself. But humans, we...we try our best, don't we? And there are always some of us who do pull through...no matter how unfair everything seemed....
Now that she thought about it...life was never that fair for Hawley, even before this nightmare. Madelaine herself never knew the details, but she would often hear rumours about a certain suicide attempt, while this rather odd, solitary boy would keep to himself, as though completely forgotten. Back then. even Madelaine came to forget about him, being someone who disliked making a habit of prying into the business of other people. But then again...was that truly the right thing to do? To completely ignore someone just because you didn't know them that well?
And so it turns out that strangers have feelings after all. She mused silently.
"....If we had all met earlier..." she thought aloud, more to herself than anyone. "...if we had bothered to just get to know him a bit more, before all of this happened...maybe things might have been better for him. We might have even been friends from the start. But I guess we kind of ignored him, didn't we? More like forgot about him..."
She pursed her lips in what seemed like resolution. "Forgotten once...but never again. Thus he lives on."
Yeah... she thought to herself grimly. He might be just a memory now, but he's still with us in some way or another.
Having come up with an idea, she reached into her pocket. Taking out the small diary, she carefully detatched the front part of the cover. It was a watercolour painting on a piece of cardboard, framed with the proverb she always loved: "Naite kurasu mo issho, waratte kurasu mo issho. It is the same life whether we spend it crying or laughing."
She turned to Adam, choosing her words carefully before talking to him. "You....you knew him well, didn't you? You were close to him..." Quietly, she handed the cover to Adam. "You can use this as a marker...I think you had better write it, I think you were his best friend."
Nothing is fair... she thought to herself. But humans, we...we try our best, don't we? And there are always some of us who do pull through...no matter how unfair everything seemed....
Now that she thought about it...life was never that fair for Hawley, even before this nightmare. Madelaine herself never knew the details, but she would often hear rumours about a certain suicide attempt, while this rather odd, solitary boy would keep to himself, as though completely forgotten. Back then. even Madelaine came to forget about him, being someone who disliked making a habit of prying into the business of other people. But then again...was that truly the right thing to do? To completely ignore someone just because you didn't know them that well?
And so it turns out that strangers have feelings after all. She mused silently.
"....If we had all met earlier..." she thought aloud, more to herself than anyone. "...if we had bothered to just get to know him a bit more, before all of this happened...maybe things might have been better for him. We might have even been friends from the start. But I guess we kind of ignored him, didn't we? More like forgot about him..."
She pursed her lips in what seemed like resolution. "Forgotten once...but never again. Thus he lives on."
Yeah... she thought to herself grimly. He might be just a memory now, but he's still with us in some way or another.
Having come up with an idea, she reached into her pocket. Taking out the small diary, she carefully detatched the front part of the cover. It was a watercolour painting on a piece of cardboard, framed with the proverb she always loved: "Naite kurasu mo issho, waratte kurasu mo issho. It is the same life whether we spend it crying or laughing."
She turned to Adam, choosing her words carefully before talking to him. "You....you knew him well, didn't you? You were close to him..." Quietly, she handed the cover to Adam. "You can use this as a marker...I think you had better write it, I think you were his best friend."
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I think you were his best friend...
The words hit Adam like a ton of bricks. His best friend...he had only known Hawley for days. He'd seen him in the hallways of his school, he'd tried to stop the bullying that he'd seen befall the kid, but he'd never talked to him. Only now, when him and his classmates were all fighting for their lives...only now, it seemed, did Adam end up meeting and knowing Hawley Faust. Of course, the first time he had come face to face with Hawley, had been after he had shot the other boy.
What a way to start a friendship...
And yet, Madelaine was right. Hawley had confided in Adam, he had trusted him with his life. Hawley had been with him through thick and through thin, and it had seemed that the boy's injuries had finally caught up to him. It was odd, Adam mused to himself, that Hawley seemed to always take the tough road through things. Through his life, and even through this game...for him, nothing was easy...
Taking the piece of cardboard in his hand, he looked at the painting, words in another language that he didn't understand circling the frame. The marker that appeared in his hands essentially from nowhere (he barely felt himself remove it from his pack), was a thick black sharpie, one that would undoubtedly serve the purpose for which it was needed.
Stepping back and sitting down on the rock that Amanda had previously been sitting on, Adam removed the cap of the marker, and in relatively large letters, wrote 'R.I.P.' near the top of the cardboard. In smaller letters just underneath, he wrote 'Hawley Faust'. There wasn't even a need for a date, in Adam's opinion. Anyone who came here would know the carnage that ensued here, if it truly was being recorded on national television like Danya claimed.
Looking at the cardboard again, he then paused for a second, looking out over his three companions, before writing another phrase. It was simple, and yet it conveyed how Adam was sure all three of them felt about Hawley's death. Adam couldn't help but add his own personal 'fuck you' to Danya, who he was sure was watching on one of his little monitors and probably chortling away at the pointlessness of what they were doing.
Well fuck him. This may be pointless but we're human, we can't just let him sit out and rot. Although when I get to Danya, that'll be one thing I do for SURE. He'll be rotting in Times-fucking-Square when I get through with him.
Adam looked out over his handiwork, and bent down over the grave, sticking the makeshift headstone into the ground, having to dig a little to ensure that it stayed upright. As he straightened himself up, he looked down over the cardboard, and for the first time in quite some time, he smiled. Hawley would finally be able to rest.
R.I.P.
Hawley Faust
Gone, but never forgotten. EVER.
It was the rest of them that would need to get moving, and quickly.
At least, as soon as we bury him.
The words hit Adam like a ton of bricks. His best friend...he had only known Hawley for days. He'd seen him in the hallways of his school, he'd tried to stop the bullying that he'd seen befall the kid, but he'd never talked to him. Only now, when him and his classmates were all fighting for their lives...only now, it seemed, did Adam end up meeting and knowing Hawley Faust. Of course, the first time he had come face to face with Hawley, had been after he had shot the other boy.
What a way to start a friendship...
And yet, Madelaine was right. Hawley had confided in Adam, he had trusted him with his life. Hawley had been with him through thick and through thin, and it had seemed that the boy's injuries had finally caught up to him. It was odd, Adam mused to himself, that Hawley seemed to always take the tough road through things. Through his life, and even through this game...for him, nothing was easy...
Taking the piece of cardboard in his hand, he looked at the painting, words in another language that he didn't understand circling the frame. The marker that appeared in his hands essentially from nowhere (he barely felt himself remove it from his pack), was a thick black sharpie, one that would undoubtedly serve the purpose for which it was needed.
Stepping back and sitting down on the rock that Amanda had previously been sitting on, Adam removed the cap of the marker, and in relatively large letters, wrote 'R.I.P.' near the top of the cardboard. In smaller letters just underneath, he wrote 'Hawley Faust'. There wasn't even a need for a date, in Adam's opinion. Anyone who came here would know the carnage that ensued here, if it truly was being recorded on national television like Danya claimed.
Looking at the cardboard again, he then paused for a second, looking out over his three companions, before writing another phrase. It was simple, and yet it conveyed how Adam was sure all three of them felt about Hawley's death. Adam couldn't help but add his own personal 'fuck you' to Danya, who he was sure was watching on one of his little monitors and probably chortling away at the pointlessness of what they were doing.
Well fuck him. This may be pointless but we're human, we can't just let him sit out and rot. Although when I get to Danya, that'll be one thing I do for SURE. He'll be rotting in Times-fucking-Square when I get through with him.
Adam looked out over his handiwork, and bent down over the grave, sticking the makeshift headstone into the ground, having to dig a little to ensure that it stayed upright. As he straightened himself up, he looked down over the cardboard, and for the first time in quite some time, he smiled. Hawley would finally be able to rest.
R.I.P.
Hawley Faust
Gone, but never forgotten. EVER.
It was the rest of them that would need to get moving, and quickly.
At least, as soon as we bury him.
-
LadyMakaze†
- Posts: 475
- Joined: Fri Aug 17, 2018 9:48 pm
Madelaine watched Adam intently as he wrote upon the cardboard and set it at the head of the grave, having fallen silent for a while now. For now her grief and shock had seemed to subside, as though the realization that Hawley was never coming back was finally settling in. That sort of acceptance seemed to calm her a bit, though it left behind a rather heavy, empty feeling inside her.
Even if it was a little hard to believe, the image of the dead boy before her eyes seemed to confirm this, sadly enough. But the fact that they were about to bury him made Madelaine feel better about the whole thing. A little better, perhaps.
As Adam finished setting up the marker, she shared his satisfaction with a small sigh. Moving over a bit, she scooped up a bit of earth at a time and began to fill up the grave little by little. She found herself feeling oddly remorseful at the same time, having to bury him underneath the earth like this. But she also realized that this was the least they could do for him now.
She sighed again, feeling weary all over again. It was then that a thought suddenly occured to her. Looking over to the rest of the present company, now dwindled in number, she shared with them her thoughts.
"I wonder if something's wrong with Marcus..." she murmured quietly, glancing over towards the fallen figure lying not far off from where she was. "He's been like that for a while."
Even if it was a little hard to believe, the image of the dead boy before her eyes seemed to confirm this, sadly enough. But the fact that they were about to bury him made Madelaine feel better about the whole thing. A little better, perhaps.
As Adam finished setting up the marker, she shared his satisfaction with a small sigh. Moving over a bit, she scooped up a bit of earth at a time and began to fill up the grave little by little. She found herself feeling oddly remorseful at the same time, having to bury him underneath the earth like this. But she also realized that this was the least they could do for him now.
She sighed again, feeling weary all over again. It was then that a thought suddenly occured to her. Looking over to the rest of the present company, now dwindled in number, she shared with them her thoughts.
"I wonder if something's wrong with Marcus..." she murmured quietly, glancing over towards the fallen figure lying not far off from where she was. "He's been like that for a while."
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As Madelaine broke the silence that had befallen the group, Adam raised an eyebrow as his eyes came upon the fallen form of their gentle giant, Marcus Roddy. Marcus had fallen quite awhile ago, and while Adam had gone over to check on the boy, he had soon been distracted with other things. Stepping over to check on him again, he felt for a pulse. His eyebrow raised again as he detected a very shallow (or what he thought was a shallow) pulse coming from the injured boy.
Must be asleep... Adam mused to himself as he tapped Marcus on the shoulder, getting no response.
Looking at the boy with a quizzical look, Adam slapped him HARD on the shoulder, in an attempt to wake him up. Nothing. Looking back at the group, Adam shrugged, and wincing as he did so, he kicked Marcus in the ribs.
Okay, a kick like that should have woken up any sleeping person, what the FUCK is going on...something is seriously wrong here...
Adam looked helplessly back at the group again, and then shrugged again, and began to yell.
"MARCUS! HEY! MARCUS! BUDDY...WAKE UP, MAN, MAR-"
Adam was interrupted by a familiar voice, a voice that hadn't spoken up in quite awhile. It sounded ragged, and the sadness in the voice was well apparent.
"He can't hear you...he's in a coma."
Amanda sat on the rock that dominated the little valley they were in, the river still flowing softly nearby. The sadness was evident in her face, for she'd taken Hawley's death rather hard, and yet still seemed to have other things on her mind. However, as she looked at Adam, her voice was perfectly even, if not a bit ragged, as stated before. Sadly, she went on.
"You just kicked him and he didn't even respond. He didn't flex, he didn't move, he's just lying there limp. My guess, he's got some sort of head wound, which means that on the Glasgow Coma Scale, which is a scale that measures the severity of a coma, he's basically brain-dead. Even if he wakes up, he'll be a vegetable for the rest of his life."
Adam gaped at Amanda and while he didn't look at the other two, he imagined that they were likely doing the same.
"How the hell did you know that?"
Amanda looked at the ground and sighed. "I was doing a project on brain injuries that I presented three days before we left...I guess some of it is still fresh in my mind...but it doesn't matter, he's not going to make it, no matter what. Not if he's got that severe a head injury."
"Fuck..." Adam muttered, as the wind blew throughout the river.
And now, we're going to have to make yet another choice...
Must be asleep... Adam mused to himself as he tapped Marcus on the shoulder, getting no response.
Looking at the boy with a quizzical look, Adam slapped him HARD on the shoulder, in an attempt to wake him up. Nothing. Looking back at the group, Adam shrugged, and wincing as he did so, he kicked Marcus in the ribs.
Okay, a kick like that should have woken up any sleeping person, what the FUCK is going on...something is seriously wrong here...
Adam looked helplessly back at the group again, and then shrugged again, and began to yell.
"MARCUS! HEY! MARCUS! BUDDY...WAKE UP, MAN, MAR-"
Adam was interrupted by a familiar voice, a voice that hadn't spoken up in quite awhile. It sounded ragged, and the sadness in the voice was well apparent.
"He can't hear you...he's in a coma."
Amanda sat on the rock that dominated the little valley they were in, the river still flowing softly nearby. The sadness was evident in her face, for she'd taken Hawley's death rather hard, and yet still seemed to have other things on her mind. However, as she looked at Adam, her voice was perfectly even, if not a bit ragged, as stated before. Sadly, she went on.
"You just kicked him and he didn't even respond. He didn't flex, he didn't move, he's just lying there limp. My guess, he's got some sort of head wound, which means that on the Glasgow Coma Scale, which is a scale that measures the severity of a coma, he's basically brain-dead. Even if he wakes up, he'll be a vegetable for the rest of his life."
Adam gaped at Amanda and while he didn't look at the other two, he imagined that they were likely doing the same.
"How the hell did you know that?"
Amanda looked at the ground and sighed. "I was doing a project on brain injuries that I presented three days before we left...I guess some of it is still fresh in my mind...but it doesn't matter, he's not going to make it, no matter what. Not if he's got that severe a head injury."
"Fuck..." Adam muttered, as the wind blew throughout the river.
And now, we're going to have to make yet another choice...
-
LadyMakaze†
- Posts: 475
- Joined: Fri Aug 17, 2018 9:48 pm
Madelaine watched quietly, looking rather worried as Adam approached the fallen Marcus. By now she couldn't tell whether he was simply asleep or unconcious or even dead. She slowly approached Adam and Marcus, wincing slightly as Adam landed a kick in Marcus' ribs. For a while she wondered if that was the most rational thing to do, kicking an injured person like that.
But what soon began to trouble her even more was that Marcus was giving absolutely no response whatsoever. She wasn't the medical expert here, but by now she had gotten the feeling that something was utterly wrong with Marcus...
At that moment it was Amanda who had confirmed it. Marcus was in a coma, otherwise for sure he would have responded to a kick in the ribs. Realizing their situation now with Marcus, Madelaine felt helpless, on the verge of falling into a pit of despair once more.
Not again... she murmured.
She looked towards Adam, Amanda, and David each in turn. "What should we do...?"
But what soon began to trouble her even more was that Marcus was giving absolutely no response whatsoever. She wasn't the medical expert here, but by now she had gotten the feeling that something was utterly wrong with Marcus...
At that moment it was Amanda who had confirmed it. Marcus was in a coma, otherwise for sure he would have responded to a kick in the ribs. Realizing their situation now with Marcus, Madelaine felt helpless, on the verge of falling into a pit of despair once more.
Not again... she murmured.
She looked towards Adam, Amanda, and David each in turn. "What should we do...?"
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David looked up when Madelaine asked what the grup should do about Marcus' coma. Honestly, he had forgotten the African American student was there until now. Falling into another one of his considerate silences, he shook his head.
"To be honest, I don't know. Not exactly an expert on comas, but I know that if we leave him like this, he's as good as dead. Add that to all his injuries, and we have a serious problem. Way I see it, he'l die no matter what we do. Should we finish him or allow him to wither away?" he asked, giving his two suggestions while sounding like he didn't mean it (not as in joking, but as in having no sincerity in the matter). He was starting to run low on ammo, and had seen too much death already to just casually suggest murder, even a mercy killing. The recent burst of machine gun fire not too far off didn't help matters.
((Continued in: Starting Place for Boy #54))
"To be honest, I don't know. Not exactly an expert on comas, but I know that if we leave him like this, he's as good as dead. Add that to all his injuries, and we have a serious problem. Way I see it, he'l die no matter what we do. Should we finish him or allow him to wither away?" he asked, giving his two suggestions while sounding like he didn't mean it (not as in joking, but as in having no sincerity in the matter). He was starting to run low on ammo, and had seen too much death already to just casually suggest murder, even a mercy killing. The recent burst of machine gun fire not too far off didn't help matters.
((Continued in: Starting Place for Boy #54))
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For Adam Dodd, the solution to the problem that they had been faced with was an unbelievably obvious one. Marcus was in a state in which he felt no pain, and had no control over his own body, and yet his mind was locked within the shell that had once been his body. Adam likened it to years before, when he had visited his grandmother, who was in a long-term care facility, with his father. Adam had been eight at the time, and hadn't exactly understood what was going on. As wise and as mature for his years that he was at that point, he had never understood what had really been happening. And now, as he stood looking at his three friends, he thought back to that very conversation...
~~~
As he stepped into the big red van, eight-year old Adam Dodd had so many questions. Both frightened and confused by what he had just seen, he had stayed silent as he walked from the doors of the hospital room, all the way to the parking lot, where he hopped in the front seat, as his father opened the driver's side door and got into the driver's seat. Adam watched his father for a moment; the man looked as if he had a heavy burden upon him, and Adam stayed quiet as he watched his father sigh heavily, and then reach into his pocket and insert the key into the ignition. As he started the car, he removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes, indications that a headache had begun to come on. Replacing the glasses on his face, Adam's dad then began to drive out of the parking lot, to begin the trip home.
The ride was silent for about ten minutes, until finally Adam couldn't help but wonder something that had been bugging him for quite awhile.
"Dad...why...why did Grandma think that I was you, and that you were Uncle Mike?"
At the question, Paul Dodd furrowed his brow. He didn't immediately answer Adam's question, mainly because he'd been trying, in fact, trying for the last ten minutes, to be able to come up with an answer that his son would understand. Sure, it was true that Adam was his oldest son, and that he was a very intelligent kid who was eerily mature for his age, but he was still a child, and as such, Paul needed to think of an easy way to explain it. Thinking for a second, he began to speak, his voice trying so desperately hard to be even, while he knew inside that he was unbelievably torn up at the visit he had just paid to his mother.
"Well, Adam...your grandmother has a disease called Alzheimer's Disease. You've heard of it, right?"
Adam nodded as he looked at his father. He noticed that his dad seemed to be choosing his words very carefully, so he didn't say anything and let his dad continue.
"Right. Basically, when a person suffers from Alzheimer's Disease, they can't really...function properly anymore. Their mind starts making them believe strange things, and their perception of the world isn't...right anymore. Your grandmother thought that you were me because she remembers what I looked like when I was your age...and so she associates you with me at your age. She ...she can't really remember things anymore, and basically how she sees the world is all through her old memories, things that she's seen or known about for a long time. Because she thinks that you were me, logically, to her...I had to be Mike."
Paul finished, and let it all sink in to his son. Perhaps it hadn't been the best explaination in the world, but it was something.
Adam listened to his father speak, and he tried to process what his father had told him. Things still, however, didn't make as much sense to him as they could have.
"So you mean...like...she doesn't really know what's going on anymore?"
Paul nodded.
"That's right. She remembers things from long ago, but she confuses them with things that are going on now. The part of her brain that controls that is damaged, and she forgets how to remember."
Adam scratched his chin, his fingers running across the smooth flesh of his face, attempting to come to terms with what his father had told him. He had previously been aware of what Alzheimer's disease was, but it was a concept that he never had really understood all that well. How was it that a brain could just forget things, and never remember? He forgot things all the time, but he remembered eventually. Of course, if her brain was damaged, then maybe that explained it. But still...how do you just forget things, how does it come along for no reason? He shook his head a little, and looked up at his dad again.
"So that means that it's going to get worse and that she's going to forget even more? And why did she keep thinking that people were after her?"
Paul sighed again, knowing that the question would come up. He couldn't help but smirk slightly as he came up with the answer to his son's question.
"She was always a really big fan of mystery novels, and gangster stories. She'd read them in her spare time, and so because she remembers reading all those stories, she thinks she's living in one right now. And..." He sighed. "Yeah, it will get worse. She's pretty far along right now, but it will get to the point where she won't be able to speak, to function at all. She'll basically be locked in her own mind. She won't talk, won't move, won't function. She'll just remain awake, and asleep, without any real deviation from that cycle."
What he was saying was admittedly upsetting him more and more, but for his son's sake, he didn't let himself show it. Of course, Adam would likely be able to figure it out because of the fact that he was slipping into bigger, more complex words; something he did often when he was stressed out. That, of course, was something that many IT professionals did, that much he knew. He was thankful, however, that his son was a smart kid, and even at eight had quite a large vocabulary.
"That sucks."
Of course, the typical response from a child, who can see that their parent is visibly upset. Paul knew that was coming. The car shifted into silence once more, as Adam processed the new information. Paul hoped that Adam would never have to deal with that, himself. He knew that if he were ever diagnosed with Alzheimer's Disease, he'd end it before he got to that same point.
Hopefully I'd remember to...
He shifted the ugly thought from his head. To be sardonic in such a situation, well...it wasn't a big surprise. To keep himself from thinking similarily, he spoke again.
"It's very similar to being in a coma. They don't react, don't respond. They're trapped inside forever, and they can't ever come out again. It's no way to live, and it's a real shame. It's a DAMNED shame."
~~~
Adam looked at his three friends, and scratched his beard, running his face over the stubble that lined the rest of his face. That conversation had been so long ago, but his father had so perfectly explained to him how awful it was to be trapped within one's self. His grandmother had lived, and continued to live on, and had indeed slipped into the vegetative state, where she continued to live on. His father had stopped visiting after awhile, unable to see his mother living on in such a state. She was still alive, and Adam mused to himself that she likely would outlive him, the way that things had been going. Of course, now, Adam was faced with a choice, an option...that likely nobody would accept, and nobody would want to do...and yet, it seemed to be the only option.
"We could, ah...it's really the only option. David's right. He's as good as dead, really. And, well...to live in that kind of a state, it's...it's just not fair. So I think the best thing we can do for him is release him from his torment."
Adam looked at the group, David especially. The other boy hadn't seemed to keen on the idea of euthanizing Marcus, but the way that Adam looked at it, it was really the only choice.
"I think that we're going to have to kill him."
~~~
As he stepped into the big red van, eight-year old Adam Dodd had so many questions. Both frightened and confused by what he had just seen, he had stayed silent as he walked from the doors of the hospital room, all the way to the parking lot, where he hopped in the front seat, as his father opened the driver's side door and got into the driver's seat. Adam watched his father for a moment; the man looked as if he had a heavy burden upon him, and Adam stayed quiet as he watched his father sigh heavily, and then reach into his pocket and insert the key into the ignition. As he started the car, he removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes, indications that a headache had begun to come on. Replacing the glasses on his face, Adam's dad then began to drive out of the parking lot, to begin the trip home.
The ride was silent for about ten minutes, until finally Adam couldn't help but wonder something that had been bugging him for quite awhile.
"Dad...why...why did Grandma think that I was you, and that you were Uncle Mike?"
At the question, Paul Dodd furrowed his brow. He didn't immediately answer Adam's question, mainly because he'd been trying, in fact, trying for the last ten minutes, to be able to come up with an answer that his son would understand. Sure, it was true that Adam was his oldest son, and that he was a very intelligent kid who was eerily mature for his age, but he was still a child, and as such, Paul needed to think of an easy way to explain it. Thinking for a second, he began to speak, his voice trying so desperately hard to be even, while he knew inside that he was unbelievably torn up at the visit he had just paid to his mother.
"Well, Adam...your grandmother has a disease called Alzheimer's Disease. You've heard of it, right?"
Adam nodded as he looked at his father. He noticed that his dad seemed to be choosing his words very carefully, so he didn't say anything and let his dad continue.
"Right. Basically, when a person suffers from Alzheimer's Disease, they can't really...function properly anymore. Their mind starts making them believe strange things, and their perception of the world isn't...right anymore. Your grandmother thought that you were me because she remembers what I looked like when I was your age...and so she associates you with me at your age. She ...she can't really remember things anymore, and basically how she sees the world is all through her old memories, things that she's seen or known about for a long time. Because she thinks that you were me, logically, to her...I had to be Mike."
Paul finished, and let it all sink in to his son. Perhaps it hadn't been the best explaination in the world, but it was something.
Adam listened to his father speak, and he tried to process what his father had told him. Things still, however, didn't make as much sense to him as they could have.
"So you mean...like...she doesn't really know what's going on anymore?"
Paul nodded.
"That's right. She remembers things from long ago, but she confuses them with things that are going on now. The part of her brain that controls that is damaged, and she forgets how to remember."
Adam scratched his chin, his fingers running across the smooth flesh of his face, attempting to come to terms with what his father had told him. He had previously been aware of what Alzheimer's disease was, but it was a concept that he never had really understood all that well. How was it that a brain could just forget things, and never remember? He forgot things all the time, but he remembered eventually. Of course, if her brain was damaged, then maybe that explained it. But still...how do you just forget things, how does it come along for no reason? He shook his head a little, and looked up at his dad again.
"So that means that it's going to get worse and that she's going to forget even more? And why did she keep thinking that people were after her?"
Paul sighed again, knowing that the question would come up. He couldn't help but smirk slightly as he came up with the answer to his son's question.
"She was always a really big fan of mystery novels, and gangster stories. She'd read them in her spare time, and so because she remembers reading all those stories, she thinks she's living in one right now. And..." He sighed. "Yeah, it will get worse. She's pretty far along right now, but it will get to the point where she won't be able to speak, to function at all. She'll basically be locked in her own mind. She won't talk, won't move, won't function. She'll just remain awake, and asleep, without any real deviation from that cycle."
What he was saying was admittedly upsetting him more and more, but for his son's sake, he didn't let himself show it. Of course, Adam would likely be able to figure it out because of the fact that he was slipping into bigger, more complex words; something he did often when he was stressed out. That, of course, was something that many IT professionals did, that much he knew. He was thankful, however, that his son was a smart kid, and even at eight had quite a large vocabulary.
"That sucks."
Of course, the typical response from a child, who can see that their parent is visibly upset. Paul knew that was coming. The car shifted into silence once more, as Adam processed the new information. Paul hoped that Adam would never have to deal with that, himself. He knew that if he were ever diagnosed with Alzheimer's Disease, he'd end it before he got to that same point.
Hopefully I'd remember to...
He shifted the ugly thought from his head. To be sardonic in such a situation, well...it wasn't a big surprise. To keep himself from thinking similarily, he spoke again.
"It's very similar to being in a coma. They don't react, don't respond. They're trapped inside forever, and they can't ever come out again. It's no way to live, and it's a real shame. It's a DAMNED shame."
~~~
Adam looked at his three friends, and scratched his beard, running his face over the stubble that lined the rest of his face. That conversation had been so long ago, but his father had so perfectly explained to him how awful it was to be trapped within one's self. His grandmother had lived, and continued to live on, and had indeed slipped into the vegetative state, where she continued to live on. His father had stopped visiting after awhile, unable to see his mother living on in such a state. She was still alive, and Adam mused to himself that she likely would outlive him, the way that things had been going. Of course, now, Adam was faced with a choice, an option...that likely nobody would accept, and nobody would want to do...and yet, it seemed to be the only option.
"We could, ah...it's really the only option. David's right. He's as good as dead, really. And, well...to live in that kind of a state, it's...it's just not fair. So I think the best thing we can do for him is release him from his torment."
Adam looked at the group, David especially. The other boy hadn't seemed to keen on the idea of euthanizing Marcus, but the way that Adam looked at it, it was really the only choice.
"I think that we're going to have to kill him."