Hellhound On My Trail

[backslash]

((Leo Menendez continued from Things Will Shortly Get Completely Out of Hand))

Somewhat ironically, by the time Leo had exhausted himself from running, he was no longer nauseous. There was a lingering wooziness at the edges of everything, probably from the combination of whatever he and his classmates had been gassed with and then fainting shortly after he woke the first time, and he had exchanged one locale that reeked of dead aquatic things for another, but his stomach remained cooperative.

Running had always helped to clear his head, in one way or another. He could let his mind wander, or shut everything else out but putting one foot in front of the other. Leo's flight from the docks had been firmly in the latter category, go go go, don't look back just in case you find yourself staring down the barrel of a gun.

Maybe it was a mercy that Howie had never seen what hit him.

The problem with reaching safety, cramming himself into a market stall so that he was out of sight, and being pretty certain that he was now well and truly alone was that now Leo had time to actually, consciously think about everything.

Some people had plans for what to do if they ever ended up in the Program, just like they had plans for what to do in case their house was robbed or the school caught fire. Leo was not one of those people. Aside from four days out of the year, he did his level best to forget that the Program was a thing at all. So, now that his number had come up in life's lottery, he had a pretty sizable backlog of thinking and planning to work through.

Option one, denial, was pretty firmly out the window. Leo was going to choose to believe that was a good thing, since it had been made obvious that his end, whatever it may be, was not approaching swiftly enough for him to keep from looking reality in the eyes.

Option two, hunkering down like he was currently and just making an effort to not see anyone else ever, also wasn't looking good. If he had ever had a weapon, regardless of whether he had the ability or intent to use it, it was long gone. More dauntingly, his food, water, and medical supplies were also gone. At this moment, death by dehydration was a closer and more frightening prospect than any other. It didn't sound as peaceful as laying on the sand and letting himself drown, that was for sure.

Leo made the conscious decision to take suicide off the metaphorical table. He wasn't interested in a moral debate with himself or anyone else who might materialize over just what killing yourself meant in the metaphysical sense. He'd heard lots of interpretations over the years. At this point in his life, Leo could most objectively call the act of suicide an act of desperation. He didn't doubt that people he knew would be driven to it here, might have been driven to it already. Times were desperate, for sure. If nothing else, though, Leo had few means and not very much trust in himself to carry out the act in a way that wouldn't end up slow and painful and with a lot of time for regrets.

So that brought him to option three. He needed other people. Well- the bigger picture was that he needed a purpose right now, and finding someone friendly conveniently served as that purpose. Leo didn't want to die of thirst or hunger, so he needed a friend who could and would share their water and food.

Of course, he didn't want to die through violence either. That was a problem that was yet to be solved.

Somewhere in the midst of his thoughts, the speakers blared and names were read. They told him who was no longer here, and named a few who were, all potential enemies. It really wasn't all that helpful to Leo's current wants and needs, honestly.

Leo wanted, needed - they were as good as the same thing - someone he could trust. Someone who wouldn't turn to violence. He didn't know what to do after that, but he could take things one step at a time. One foot in front of the other.

He couldn't keep running forever, but he could run a little longer once morning came.

((Leo Menendez continued in Someday We Won't Remember This))