Shoegazing

[Jilly]

Katelynne's limp body was freed from Quinn's chokehold, folding onto the ground face-down in part of the debris from the shotgun blast.

She did not stir.

[Grim Wolf]

She called out, but no sooner had she spoken then Caroline was moving again, the gun held close. Daria felt a shiver of cold pulse through her spine and crackle along her ribs. The way Caroline handled the gun...Daria had nothing but movies and TV to count on, but there was ease there, a disconcerting comfort. Especially with...

With what? Daria had a decent vocabulary, but she couldn't quite make sense. Carrie's movements were at odds with her words, her words at odds with her intonation, her intonation at odds with her expression.

Crazy Carrie. What did it mean? How bad was it? Was she just prone to anxiety or anger? Depression, ADHD? Or...

"You hear about that schizo girl?"

Someone in an English class. Who? Did it matter?

Caroline was widening the gap between them. With a start, Daria lurched after her, following her towards the tree. Did she suffer from schizophrenia, or was that someone else? Why was she so quick to assume Daria was making fun of her? Was she paranoid, or was there really something to be afraid of?

The shotgun roared.

She didn't move. She didn't breathe. Her hands were over her ears, her shoulders hunched. Caroline was standing there, shotgun smoking slightly in her hand. In the distance, a human figure was already sprinting deeper into the trees, looking for all the world like a startled deer. And sprawled out on the ground in front of Caroline was a body.

For a moment, there was no color. For a moment, there was no sound. For a moment, there was just the fact of what she seeing. A smoking shotgun. A fallen body. A madwoman, armed and dangerous. All that stood between horror and relief was the woman on the ground. Life versus death. Simple binary, wasn't it? Zero and one.

Zero and one. A game with rules. Don't stop. Can't stop. Act.

She breathed. Inhale, and the smell of smoke and something else, something woodsy and feral. Out, and color and sound snapped back into the world.

ACT.

Daria moved forward, not slowly but deliberately, angling herself so that she would be in Caroline's peripheral vision. "Excuse me," she said, and could barely hear her own voice over the ringing in her ears. She knelt down next to the fallen woman (had they worked together once? Some photo shoot during a school play? No, maybe not, and what did it matter now, there is only the task at hand, half-remembered first-aid training, a how-to video on wilderness survival for a video project she'd never done, just instincts and feelings and the need to seem...

What?

She ran soothing hands over the fallen girl as her mind worked, checking for blood. Her eyes glanced up to Caroline, trying hard not to seem accusatory or judgmental. Whatever was troubling Caroline, she had seen what had happened. Daria hadn't.

"What happened?" she asked, lifting her voice, trying to make herself audible over the ringing in her ears.

[Shiola]

Caroline winced as she instinctively let the shotgun off her shoulder. It felt like someone had punched her in the arm, hard. Whatever it was she had been shooting at, it was gone now. Maybe it ran off into the woods, wounded. Maybe it wasn't there to begin with. Whatever the case, it seemed to have expelled the girl from its grasp. Caroline leaned back against the shoe tree, sliding down to the ground as she found her legs couldn't quite keep her standing up anymore.

Had she just shot at nothing? She'd never seen anything like that before. Did things like that live in the woods out here? No, Caroline knew where things like that lived. It was hard to even suggest to herself that it might not have really been there. It was too vivid, too horrific. Not in her wildest, worst moments back home did anything like that appear. It was always something mundane, something disturbing but not outwardly hellish. An unexpected delivery in the mail became someone trying to break into the house to kill her. It was hard to eat sometimes because it was hard not to see pests or mold in her food that wasn't actually there.

It was usually times like those that someone like Chloe or Regina would calm her down, remind her to take a few deep breaths and trust in something beyond her broken perceptions. Caroline had always suspected Chloe didn't actually believe in God, but she always prayed with her when she asked. Working through this was always an act of faith. A belief in some inherent good, some greater plan that would account for moments like this. Of course, she'd never actually been through anything like this before. Seeing real monsters kill Ms. Garcia might account for the ones she wasn't sure of. Either that, or they'd set loose other things onto this island besides frightened teenagers.

I hope you're praying for me now, Chloe.

The texture of the wood and the leaves crawled, and for a moment it was easy to imagine the creature returning from the woods with dozens of its friends, all ready to disembowel her with their prying fingers. Maybe she'd enjoy it just as much as the other girl seemed to. The creatures wouldn't get a chance. If it ran from the shotgun that meant it could be killed, and Caroline still had plenty of shells left. Even if, as she looked to her shoulder, she saw the beginnings of a bruise with deep red streaks that looked like a carpet burn.

I'll shoot it bloody if I have to.

She looked to Daria, who was now attending to the girl on the ground. Daria seemed normal, level-headed even. The shotgun resting underneath her arm, still pointing towards the section of forest the Quinn-thing had fled off to, Caroline addressed her. Her voice was bereft of the anger she'd expressed before, the need for that performance now made obsolete by the angrier report of the shotgun.

"I can't tell you what happened. It looked to me like Quinn was trying to kill that other girl. With her hands. Except, it wasn't Quinn. She was lying. They didn't look right, her hands. Some things were too many, and some were too little. They didn't have eyes, and there were all of these little holes in their skin, and it looked like the holes were breathing. It's like they set loose something on the island, something we'd think was our friends just to... just to see what would happen to us. Maybe it wanted to feed, make more of itself."

Caroline's cold eyes locked with Daria's. Though she was babbling, her tone was level and matter-of-fact, as if she was just asking for directions. In a manner of speaking, she was.

"Daria. You're into math, right? Things that are certain, provable. Numbers. Numbers don't lie. Numbers might make fun of me, but you don't seem like you'd lie. One plus one is always two, that kind of thing. Help me. Help - no, stop me. Not you. She's fine. She's real. She's a numbers person. You can help me. Daria, tell me she's normal looking, that she's just hurt. Then I can have faith it was just Quinn being a monster, and not a monster trying to be Quinn. I can have faith in you if you can do the thing where A is always A and never B."

She cocked her head, holding the shotgun tight and holding onto any sense of certainty she still had.

[Namira]

The monster that looked like Quinn, or, perhaps, the Quinn that was a monster, was gratified that no further blasts of buckshot rang out in her wake.

She put her head down and vanished into the trees.

((Quinn continued in Waking From One Nightmare Into Another))

[Jilly]

And then, a raspy cough. Katelynne opened her eyes to the wood shards and grass on the ground.

Her throat burned; every wheezy breath was agony. But she was alive.

Someone was right by her, passing a hand over Katelynne's clumped body. Another girl. Katelynne couldn't hear what she was saying, or the other voice either for that matter. But neither were Quinn.

Katelynne pushed herself up with all her might and sat on her knees, her head hanging low. She pointed at her duffel bag by the tree with a shaky hand.

"Wuh... water."

[Grim Wolf]

She wasn't finding any blood. Not on the girl. Not around the girl. There was a little relief, though Daria didn't quite let it show on her face. Relief felt double-edged here. Relief might feel like judgment to a woman bucking under the strain. Thank God, Crazy Carrie didn't kill anyone after all.

"I can't tell you what happened. It looked to me like Quinn was trying to kill that other girl. With her hands."

A look of disgust flicked across Daria's face. "Been her a couple hours and we're already strangling each other," she mumbled. She looked to the fallen girl's neck. Was that a bruise? In the mottled forest light, she couldn't quite tell.

"Except, it wasn't Quinn. She was lying."

Daria's eyes darted towards Caroline's face again, saw that strange gaze, too deep, too penetrating, too far away. Like she was looking beyond the world around her, at something only she could see. Another spreading chill across her ribs.

"They didn't look right, her hands. Some things were too many, and some were too little. They didn't have eyes, and there were all of these little holes in their skin, and it looked like the holes were breathing. It's like they set loose something on the island, something we'd think was our friends just to... just to see what would happen to us. Maybe it wanted to feed, make more of itself."

Crazy. Absolutely crazy. The things she said sounded like the madness that spouted from Lovecraft's psychotic protagonists, like the mad ramblings of a True Detective villain. Daria felt her legs tense with the urge to run.

But were the things she saying really that crazy? These people--the ones like Quinn, lying and huting and hurting--weren't their friends. They were monsters wearing their skin. Something the game's makers had set loose to prey on them, to feed on them, to reproduce themselves by making violence beget violence. Wasn't that what Daria herself had been thinking? About the way the game was meant to misshape them? About ways they might find to fight back against the game?

Carrie's eyes changed a little, focused wholly on Daria.

"Daria. You're into math, right?"

Daria nodded slowly.

"Things that are certain, provable. Numbers. Numbers don't lie. Numbers might make fun of me, but you don't seem like you'd lie. One plus one is always two, that kind of thing." Her eyes went far away again. "Help me. Help - no, stop me. Not you. She's fine. She's real. She's a numbers person." Another shiver of cold across Daria's ribs, before Carrie's eyes focused back on her. "You can help me. Daria, tell me she's normal looking, that she's just hurt. Then I can have faith it was just Quinn being a monster, and not a monster trying to be Quinn. I can have faith in you if you can do the thing where A is always A and never B."

Daria felt bizarrely, psychotically alive. She felt energy crackling beneath her skin, her awareness straining to pick up ever subtle inflection in Carrie's voice, to make sense of her facial expressions and her words, to piece together exactly who this person was and what they meant. It was a little like being around someone you really liked, combined with the delicious thrill of standing in a tall place, or straining your muscles in a difficult task. Everything she was was fixed on this moment, trying to make sense of the woman talking to her, to hear as she heard, to see as she saw. And the more she tried, the closer she came. Carrie was standing there, asking for the same thing Daria herself had come seeking. A reprieve from the silence. A sympathetic voice to soothe the madness in your own head. Her madness seemed stronger than Daria's, but...

How crazy was Crazy Carrie? How much was just the world, a hair askance from ordinary observation? And even if she was crazy, how much crazier was a world where Quinn had strangled a girl, and left her for dead?

"I don't know," Daria said at last. "It's...almost reassuring, to think...to think it wasn't Quinn. Just something pretending to be her. Something like that would be..."

She let the silence stretch for a moment, looking steadily into Caroline's eyes. Then she said, "But I think you're right. Just Quinn. And I'm scared, Caroline. I'm scared, cuz...cuz I wouldn't have thought that. I didn't think..." She laughed shortly. "Not A=A. A is Quinn. C is a monster. B is someone who kills someone and lies about it and I didn't think anyone of our classmates was B or C but if A=B and B=C then A=C and I didn't...I didn't think..."

She'd found a little comfort in a simple transitive property, and then the comfort vanished. She could heard the hysterical edge in her voice. She took a deep breath. In. Out.

"I believe in numbers," she said. "Among other things. I can't promise you A is always A, and never B. I don't know." She looked steadily into Carrie's eyes, trying not to hide any of her fear or doubt, and trying to share some small part of the weird determination she felt, the puzzle was still untangling in her head. "But there's always a solution. If you're smart enough, and try hard enough. You can solve it. You can figure it out." She smiled slightly. "We can figure it out."

There was a rasping cough. Daria's head jerked down to the fallen girl, almost forgotten by her side. Her eyes creaked open. Her body creaked upright. Her words creaked out. Daria moved automatically, grabbing the bag and bringing it closer, pulling out one of the water bottles and pushing it gently into the fallen girl's hands.

[Shiola]

Caroline had been looking for certainty, of any kind. Some kind of anchor to hold onto what was real and what wasn't. That was the strategy she'd been given, to refer to others. Privately she'd hoped she could just refer to God, but He didn't always give her clear signs. Ineffable mysteries didn't really prove to be good ground to stand on when one's mind was given to split with reality.

Daria had altogether failed at really giving much of a coherent answer. She was anything but certain. There was some level of comfort in that, too. Uncertainty was a human quality after all, the kind of thing that the voices never really were. They always knew exactly what they wanted to say, and never seemed to lack for confidence in doing so. It was so very annoying. She rubbed the bridge of her nose, pinching herself in a bid to shut them out for a moment.

Caroline paced, rambling as Daria attended to the girl on the ground who was very much not riddled with holes.

"Thank - thank you. We can figure it out. I try not to talk about these things. It draws them in, you know? I made a mistake. Engaged with them, when I knew I should not have. That was what I was told not to do, but I did it. Then I did it anyways, and then she showed up. So it was my fault. It scared me. What do you do, when someone's coming for you? I was thinking about, you know, how these things didn't shoot one big bullet but a bunch of little ones. Little holes in everything. How I didn't wanna punch little holes in someone. That made me scared, you know. There's a word for it. Trypophobia. Like not really clinically assessed though. Phobias are easy to treat. It's the kind of picture someone shows you when they want to make you uncomfortable. If they want you to shudder, and go ew gross and tell them to stop. I know it never stops, I know if I engage it just makes it worse. Then I saw them, and even though she was full of holes, I didn't have a choice, I had to save her and..."

She paused, looking down. The flat tone in her voice took on a tiny lilt, before settling back down again.

"Oh! I saved her, didn't I? That's... that's good. I didn't think I could do that."

Help those who cannot help themselves, right? I can do that now, can't I?

"That's something. That's something I did. Huh. Go me."

Caroline looked up, and beheld a tree. The tree was full of shoes. The sky was full of sun. They both hung in the sky, with grace. She smiled.

Something that was hard to define, hard to be altogether certain about, but it felt true nonetheless. Though she'd looked at it before, she hadn't seen the tree in this light. It told her something new and yet old, something so seemingly ineffable yet so easily understood.

"I said unto him: I know that he loveth his children."

"And yet I don't know the meaning of all things."

She had a responsibility. To God. To herself. To those who'd shown her compassion.

"Come on, friend. We can't rest here. There are too many bandits, armed men and women. Monsters waiting for idle moments. We'll find shelter in the tree's message, but not under its branches. Follow me."

With that, Caroline pressed onward. With what she was certain was true, there didn't have to be anything to fear.

((Caroline Ford continued in Dead Moon))

[Jilly]

Katelynne nodded her head with another cough and grasped the water bottle, catching a glimpse of the girl helping her. Daria. Nice girl.

"Thank-." Another cough.

A sip of water. Then another one. It helped a little bit.

Caroline started rambling about something; Katelynne was able to pick herself up fully. She capped the bottle of water and threw it into the duffel bag along with the yearbook still sitting in the grass two feet away.

((And when Caroline and Daria weren't paying attention, she faded away into the endless expanse of trees.))

[Grim Wolf]

Daria tended to the fallen girl as best she could, feeling taut and powerful at the same time. She was both anxious and capable of meeting her anxieties. She felt like she was performing a role she was daunted by, but which she knew well. And all the while, she listened to Caroline.

"I try not to talk about these things. It draws them in, you know?"

Daria nodded. "Yeah. I know." There were things you didn't say, fearful as they were. And there were things you didn't say, because others feared them so. Her mother and her vaunted practicality. Her father and the gods he refused to forswear. And Daria, keeping silent because the alternative was another soul-threshing fight with her beloved parents.

"Come on, friend. We can't rest here. There are too many bandits, armed men and women. Monsters waiting for idle moments. We'll find shelter in the tree's message, but not under its branches. Follow me."

Crazy Carrie. But Carrie didn't seem so crazy. A lot of what Carrie said seemed to make a lot of sense.

"One sec," she said, helping the fallen girl to her feet. While the other girl stumbled off in the same direction as Caroline, Daria searched the clearing until she found what she was looking for: a camera rigged in the lower boughs of a tall tree, shifted to make sure its lens could see her, and waved jauntily at it.

"Gonna need that answer soon," Daria said. "Killing's already started, an I can't give you much of a game if I don't know the rules."

The goal of her game would be to break theirs, of course. But she'd tell them that soon enough. There were things you didn't talk about, and things you did. Things you had to. If you didn't say them, the world didn't change. And Daria felt like she'd been born knowing that the world had to change. And that she could change it.

One deep breath. In. Out.

(Daria Bhatia continued in Dead Moon)