Let The Dead Bury Their Dead

#1

((Tas continued from Justice in Alpine Valley))

Tas spent the rest of the day laying low as best she could. She tried not to stop walking for too long, although after a while her legs started to ache from being on the move constantly. It was cold though, so it was be sore or be freezing. She stumbled several times as she made her way through the pines, more from fatigue than anything else. It was an unwelcome reminder of the fact that she hadn't slept since arriving in the valley, and more than that, when Tas's mind focused on why she hadn't had a chance to sleep, invariably what had happened back in the town reasserted itself.

Trying to reassure herself that it hadn't been her fault didn't help a hell of a lot. How the hell could she shrug off blame when she'd pulled the trigger? Tas replayed what had happened in her head over and over, as best she could from the frantic memories. He'd grabbed the gun, told her to put it down, she knew why she'd flipped, knew why she thought he'd been after her, but had he really? Fuck, she was just going round and round in circles now, the same thoughts chasing each other like a dog trying to catch its own tail.

For a while, more mundane worries occupied her - eating, drinking, thinking about risking trying to find shelter again. Saltines and bread weren't precisely living in high society, particularly considering the type of fare Tas tended to get at home, but she'd wolfed them down nonetheless. She'd never been fussy, didn't really care too much about what she ate, and right now, any kind of food was pretty much heavenly. Chewing a mouthful of loaf, washing it down with a gulp of water, Tas sat with her back against the base of a tree. From where she was sitting she could see where the trees started to thin out, juuust about catch a glimpse of buildings in the distance. She actually felt a little better for eating. Celia had always said that, when Tas was upset - you'll feel better on a full stomach.

The ship kept steady after that. It became easier to... not reconcile what she'd done, just block it out. Maybe that was ignoring things, refusing to take responsibility, Tas couldn't give a damn. So long as that image of the blood soaking through the guy's shirt wasn't constantly creeping in the corners of her mind.

She was coping, just about - taking breaks every hour or so now to rest, cause Tas didn't want to be too tired to bail if she ran into someone else. Thinking about maybe moving to another part of the valley... and then the announcement came and her heart dropped. The moment she'd been anticipating. No, dreading.

It wasn't until halfway through that Tas shook herself and got to her feet. Christ, people were dying - more people than the dude she'd shot - and she was just sat here listening out for the only name she already knew would be on there! Her classmates were being killed, one by one, where was her head? Right now Adams was listing off the dead, but also threats. Maybe with an off-chance of there actually being someone she halfway cared about-

Right on cue. Angel. Fucking Angel. Her buddy, sort've - insomuch as they hung out now and then and sometimes she kept watch for security or police whilst he snuck something into his pockets, or spray painted a wall. They'd been a weird pair, one of them poor, the other well off, but they'd shared an anger, and... Tas hadn't even thought about him since all this started. Had hardly even remembered that he was around. Fuck.

"Coño..."

There went any chance she'd had of finding a friend in this mess. Tas had a few people that she was on decent terms with, but she knew that 'decent' just wasn't good enough in this game. A lot of death already... how many of them were even left?

All that went through her head in a matter of moments, just a few seconds after Angel was announced - her own name. Anastasia Flores. And she'd killed... her shoulders sagged. Somehow having a name to the face was worse. Vividly, the boy - Gerald, dropping to the floor, eyes staring, accusing her, played back through her head. Christ. And then the rest of it. Better than the others? What was that supposed to mean? Why should she killing someone be something to egg other's on with-

Cause she was 'non-American'. Of course.

Tas fell to her knees and threw up violently, heaving, her meagre meal splashing onto the pine needles. Deep gasping breaths, her form trembling, something dripping down her chin.

And the woods... a dangerzone. She was near the fringes - had to go-

Tas lurched back up to her feet and managed to stumble away. She didn't know where. Anywhere. It didn't matter; there was nowhere to run now.

((Tas continued in Virtue's Last Reward))