((Samuel Wilson continued from Stone Soup))
It'd been a couple of hours. Probably more than a couple; the sun was a lot lower in the sky than it had been when they had started.
Sam had had no idea how to use a compass or triangulate anything or whatever people did to find out where they were going. He didn't admit it, but he had some inkling that Delilah probably knew that he didn't know either.
It was a little embarrassing.
Finally he had just settled for hoping the map was accurate. If it was accurate, pointing them directly away from the mines should have led them to the Ranch, the Crossroads Bridge, and finally the Ghost Town that they'd been heading for.
Just walk straight. Easy enough.
Except it wasn't, and they'd missed the Ranch somehow. Either it had looked a lot closer on the map, or they were in big trouble until they found out where they were. Sam tried not to let on that they were lost, making some small talk along the way instead, but he fancied that Delilah could perhaps sense his nervousness at missing a major landmark. The ranch was huge; it was like missing a shot at the broad side of a barn. With a shotgun.
All those reasons were why Sam let out a big sigh of relief when he spotted the railroad tracks, and following them, the bridge. Two bridges, actually, but hey, what's one bridge more or less? He checked the map again. That was right, Crossroads Bridge. Right in the middle of the map. They'd made it. They were on the right track.
Sam wiped his brow. The heat was really starting to get to him. He'd unzipped his jacket a while ago, leaving it to only cover his shoulders and back, with the T-shirt taking care of the rest. But it was still awfully hot.
He glanced back at Delilah, and gave a small smile. "We're almost there. What do you say we go down to the river to cool off?"
Who knew, maybe others had the same idea, too.
Water Under the Bridge
Open
Water Under the Bridge
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[[Delilah Rivers Continued From: Stone Soup.]]
They had wandered for some time now, along the dry plains that looked practically the same no matter where or how far they'd traveled. She followed close behind Sam as he guided her through the desert like environment, hoping he'd lead them somewhere labeled on that map he was holding, just so she knew that they were making some progress. As the hour passed, Delilah was beginning to think that Sam and by association, herself were lost.
Sam talked along the way, but Delilah kept quiet by merely listening, giving a physical response like a nod, or giving short answers to Sam when necessary. She wasn't much of a talker in the first place, but the exhaustion of the walk, was really making her too tired to talk or hold up any kind of conversation.
The sun was beating down hard, turning up the heat to at least one hundred degrees in Delilah's head. It probably wasn't really that hot, but couple with the fact that she was cooking within her jacket didn't help matters either. She was absolutely not dressed for the warm weather, with her clothes obviously suited for Canada's cool and temperate nature.
She was tempted to remove that jacket, but much like her bag was to her now, that jacket was a sort of safety blanket for the French Canadian girl. Delilah knew she would feel too "exposed" without it, even if removing it, would give her some relief from the heat. Not to mention that she didn't feel comfortable enough to show more skin, especially with a boy around. She was far too timid for that, even if she was wearing a matching female tank top underneath. So instead, she unzipped her backpack, wishing that some kind of cold liquid refreshment had been provided from within. She dug through it, ignoring everything in her search for something drinkable, until she found the H2O she had been looking for.
It wasn't even the sort of hot which would cause one to perspire too much. It was that bothersome type of hot, where ev-er-y-thing felt dry. The land, the air, her skin, her mouth and her throat. It was near euphoria, once the crisp water, which still had contained a hint of coldness even though it warmed up, touch her tongue and re-hydrated her dry throat and body.
Sam let out a relieved sigh, once he spotted the railroad. Delilah was also relieved and happy that they were - like a well conceived pun - finally on the right track.
They followed alongside the raildroad until they reached what looked like two bridges. One, was the railroad leading itself onto a large bridge, presumably for whatever train was supposed to cross the river. The other, on lower ground, closer to the water itself was a foot bridge for travelers. It didn't look very safe, in fact it looked quite hazardous, with how flimsy it looked over the rapidly moving river beneath it.
Delilah herself, had River as her last name, Rivers to be precise, but she had nothing in common with this river. This river was strong and mighty, flowing with power over everything. It may even have been a little dangerous. Delilah was more like a pleasant stream than that river, herself.
With a friendly face, Sam asked if Delilah wanted to cool down by this river. Not that it was a bad idea, but after looking down at the river, Delilah didn't feel exactly comfortable going too near it for fear of accidentally falling in and getting swept up in the current.
She returned a subtle smile back at him, with nervous eyes, but mouthed okay. She trusted his judgement and didn't wish to deny him a chance to cool down. Maybe she could have a good rest after that hike, under the bigger bridge, near the smaller bridge and have a nice little meal alongside the riverbank, as long as she was careful not to fall in. Besides, she really was hungry and also needed to check what exactly was in her day pack.
Who knows? Maybe some of their other classmates with similar goals planned to cross the bridge as well.
They had wandered for some time now, along the dry plains that looked practically the same no matter where or how far they'd traveled. She followed close behind Sam as he guided her through the desert like environment, hoping he'd lead them somewhere labeled on that map he was holding, just so she knew that they were making some progress. As the hour passed, Delilah was beginning to think that Sam and by association, herself were lost.
Sam talked along the way, but Delilah kept quiet by merely listening, giving a physical response like a nod, or giving short answers to Sam when necessary. She wasn't much of a talker in the first place, but the exhaustion of the walk, was really making her too tired to talk or hold up any kind of conversation.
The sun was beating down hard, turning up the heat to at least one hundred degrees in Delilah's head. It probably wasn't really that hot, but couple with the fact that she was cooking within her jacket didn't help matters either. She was absolutely not dressed for the warm weather, with her clothes obviously suited for Canada's cool and temperate nature.
She was tempted to remove that jacket, but much like her bag was to her now, that jacket was a sort of safety blanket for the French Canadian girl. Delilah knew she would feel too "exposed" without it, even if removing it, would give her some relief from the heat. Not to mention that she didn't feel comfortable enough to show more skin, especially with a boy around. She was far too timid for that, even if she was wearing a matching female tank top underneath. So instead, she unzipped her backpack, wishing that some kind of cold liquid refreshment had been provided from within. She dug through it, ignoring everything in her search for something drinkable, until she found the H2O she had been looking for.
It wasn't even the sort of hot which would cause one to perspire too much. It was that bothersome type of hot, where ev-er-y-thing felt dry. The land, the air, her skin, her mouth and her throat. It was near euphoria, once the crisp water, which still had contained a hint of coldness even though it warmed up, touch her tongue and re-hydrated her dry throat and body.
Sam let out a relieved sigh, once he spotted the railroad. Delilah was also relieved and happy that they were - like a well conceived pun - finally on the right track.
They followed alongside the raildroad until they reached what looked like two bridges. One, was the railroad leading itself onto a large bridge, presumably for whatever train was supposed to cross the river. The other, on lower ground, closer to the water itself was a foot bridge for travelers. It didn't look very safe, in fact it looked quite hazardous, with how flimsy it looked over the rapidly moving river beneath it.
Delilah herself, had River as her last name, Rivers to be precise, but she had nothing in common with this river. This river was strong and mighty, flowing with power over everything. It may even have been a little dangerous. Delilah was more like a pleasant stream than that river, herself.
With a friendly face, Sam asked if Delilah wanted to cool down by this river. Not that it was a bad idea, but after looking down at the river, Delilah didn't feel exactly comfortable going too near it for fear of accidentally falling in and getting swept up in the current.
She returned a subtle smile back at him, with nervous eyes, but mouthed okay. She trusted his judgement and didn't wish to deny him a chance to cool down. Maybe she could have a good rest after that hike, under the bigger bridge, near the smaller bridge and have a nice little meal alongside the riverbank, as long as she was careful not to fall in. Besides, she really was hungry and also needed to check what exactly was in her day pack.
Who knows? Maybe some of their other classmates with similar goals planned to cross the bridge as well.
Delilah did it again, that facial expression that seemed to approximate, as closely as Sam could tell, a smile. And she mouthed okay.
It was good enough for him. He might have even whooped for joy or something if he hadn't been around Delilah. It might have seemed kind of immature.
As it was, he settled for a "Come on, then!"
Sam made his way down the slope to the river below, as carefully as he could. He would have ran, maybe, if he wasn't so sure that he'd fall. He didn't think much of falling, at first. What was it going to do, knock him out? It wasn't that bad of a slope. As for the river, how deep could it be? Still, something told him to be cautious. If the game was real - and he still wasn't sure if it was - he needed to keep his mental faculties. Best to act careful. No telling when a threat might appear.
The closer he got to the river, though, the more dangerous it started to appear - the swift water rushing past the banks, the continuous sound of the water.
Well, it was a river. He hadn't been expecting a gentle brook, anyway.
What bothered him a little, at first, was how the edges of the river seemed to rush and bubble, while the middle stayed mostly calm, though he could see it flowing at a fairly fast rate. Rivers weren't calm in the center like hurricanes. Otherwise there'd probably be some sort of "eye of the river," and Sam had definitely never heard that expression before.
Finally reaching the river, Sam dropped his backpack and knelt at the riverbank to gather some water in his hands and splash it on his sweaty face, careful to maintain his balance and not go tumbling into the river. It took him three handfuls before he realized the solution to what he had noticed earlier.
There were lots of rocks near the edge of the river, and that was what the water was hitting, rippling as it adjusted its path to accommodate the obstacles. In the middle of the river, the rocks weren't there. At least not on the surface.
Still waters run deep.
He was reminded of Delilah. She'd been quiet on the way over. He'd tried to make conversation, perhaps more for his own sake than hers. She hadn't really responded; sometimes he'd wondered what she'd been thinking. Then again, she'd always been quiet, even before they'd been placed in this crazy game. Sam had never really paid attention to her before, to be honest, besides her name, her face. They'd both been in theatre, yeah, and they'd both helped in hauling around stuff at times. But he'd never particularly talked to her, and he got the sense that she kept to herself pretty well.
Maybe he'd be able to get to know her better. Hopefully after they got back on that train and got home.
He hoped he'd gotten the idiom correct. He'd never been very good at English.
Sam scooped up another handful of water, and looked back at Delilah. She was hanging around behind him, but didn't look like she was about to approach the riverbank anytime soon.
"Nice and cold," he said, the water slowly trickling through his fingers back into the river. "Going to come over, or should I splash you?"
It was good enough for him. He might have even whooped for joy or something if he hadn't been around Delilah. It might have seemed kind of immature.
As it was, he settled for a "Come on, then!"
Sam made his way down the slope to the river below, as carefully as he could. He would have ran, maybe, if he wasn't so sure that he'd fall. He didn't think much of falling, at first. What was it going to do, knock him out? It wasn't that bad of a slope. As for the river, how deep could it be? Still, something told him to be cautious. If the game was real - and he still wasn't sure if it was - he needed to keep his mental faculties. Best to act careful. No telling when a threat might appear.
The closer he got to the river, though, the more dangerous it started to appear - the swift water rushing past the banks, the continuous sound of the water.
Well, it was a river. He hadn't been expecting a gentle brook, anyway.
What bothered him a little, at first, was how the edges of the river seemed to rush and bubble, while the middle stayed mostly calm, though he could see it flowing at a fairly fast rate. Rivers weren't calm in the center like hurricanes. Otherwise there'd probably be some sort of "eye of the river," and Sam had definitely never heard that expression before.
Finally reaching the river, Sam dropped his backpack and knelt at the riverbank to gather some water in his hands and splash it on his sweaty face, careful to maintain his balance and not go tumbling into the river. It took him three handfuls before he realized the solution to what he had noticed earlier.
There were lots of rocks near the edge of the river, and that was what the water was hitting, rippling as it adjusted its path to accommodate the obstacles. In the middle of the river, the rocks weren't there. At least not on the surface.
Still waters run deep.
He was reminded of Delilah. She'd been quiet on the way over. He'd tried to make conversation, perhaps more for his own sake than hers. She hadn't really responded; sometimes he'd wondered what she'd been thinking. Then again, she'd always been quiet, even before they'd been placed in this crazy game. Sam had never really paid attention to her before, to be honest, besides her name, her face. They'd both been in theatre, yeah, and they'd both helped in hauling around stuff at times. But he'd never particularly talked to her, and he got the sense that she kept to herself pretty well.
Maybe he'd be able to get to know her better. Hopefully after they got back on that train and got home.
He hoped he'd gotten the idiom correct. He'd never been very good at English.
Sam scooped up another handful of water, and looked back at Delilah. She was hanging around behind him, but didn't look like she was about to approach the riverbank anytime soon.
"Nice and cold," he said, the water slowly trickling through his fingers back into the river. "Going to come over, or should I splash you?"
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Sam looked happy at Delilah's response and urge her to follow him down the slope. She walked down carefully, so she wouldn't trip over her own feet. She was worried about Sam falling down and breaking his crown, with her tumbling after. She couldn't remember if Jack and Jill were brother and sister or just good friends, but it was an interesting little comparison. That is until a different comparison suddenly popped into Delilah's little daydream.
It was in their names: Sam and Delilah. It certainly sounded familiar to the young Quebecan. She had been quietly thinking of a little name to call their duo when the obvious came up, and she chuckled inwardly at the odd little coincidence.
Once they got to the river bank, Sam had immediately dropped his bag and started to scoop water into his hands and began patting it onto his face. Delilah instead, gazed at the running river, flowing rapidly down the plains. The river looked rough along the edges, but the center looked surprisingly smooth.
She imagined for a minute, what it would be like, if this whole valley had the same weather as Canada. Like, how very cool it would look to see this whole river frozen over. Delilah saw herself, in a pair of ice skates, on the smooth surface of the frozen river. She had always adored ice skating, except she usually did so at the ice rink. Suddenly the ice beneath her began to crack and she panicked as the river pulled her under.
"Nice and cold. Going to come over, or should I splash you?" Sam said, breaking her out of her thoughts.
Delilah bit her bottom lip, as the image of the river swallowing her up replayed again and again in her mind as he called her over. She didn't want to go near the river at all, to be honest. But it was hot. Maybe she'd be polite and have a quick feel? Yeah she'd do that. Her skin was much too dry anyway. Being into skin care thanks to her mother Mimi, made the issue even more obvious for her. Gosh she hated dry skin!
After placing her bag on the ground a safe distance from the river bank, Delilah moved forward to join the boy. It was noticeably much greener closer to the water, and the quiet girl sorta liked that. It was exactly how grass was supposed to look, not that hay colored stuff that covered the rest of the dry plains.
Gently, Delilah placed her hands into the water at the shallowest point she could. Goodness, it was cold, as Sam said. She too dabbed some against the dry skin of her face and neck and also along her arms and legs, as if the water was moisturizer. It was quite nice, a delightful experience.
Until her hand knocked over a coastal rock, which was immediately picked up by the currents, sending it to the middle, where it sank. Well, that made sense. The bridge was here for a reason. This was most likely the deepest part of the river, so she had to be extra careful.
After getting her share of the refreshing fresh water, Delilah backed off again to her bag. She was hungry after all that walking and needed something to eat. She might as well check her bag while she was at it.
Opening it up, Delilah began browsing through the contents. A map with a compass, like the one Sam had been using the whole day was near the top. The large white box, with the cross, was easily identifiable as a first aid kit. She frowned once she saw the flashlight. If she knew that, that, was there, than maybe she wouldn't have freaked out as much in those mines. Digging in some more, lead Delilah to the rest of her rations and water, including a canteen, which she could fill in from the river, which seemed drinkable enough. She pulled out the bag of beef jerky, opened it up and started eating some as she continued looking for other items.
The most peculiar object in her day pack was a long metal cased object, with a handle, which she hadn't notice before. Curiosity got the better of her so she had to take a look. She put a hand into the loop of the ornate handle and the other hand around the gold colored, metal casing. She didn't even need to pull the whole thing out entirely. Just one or two inches up and Delilah already seen the glint of the blade and the sharpened edge beneath it.
What Delilah had, was some kind of fancily constructed sword, which looked like it could have been owned by a high ranking officer during the civil war. It was certainly an impressive work of craftsmanship, but it had Delilah worried. Did, Sam have one too? No wait, she remembered what the Sheriff had said over in the train. Everyone was given random weapons to kill each other with. What, was she supposed to use this on somebody? Her heart rate sped up, as the reality of "the game" they were in, once again engulfed her mind.
Delilah couldn't dare look at that saber again. She pushed the casing back down and shoved it into her unzipped bag. She continued to eat and rest as Sam cooled off.
It was in their names: Sam and Delilah. It certainly sounded familiar to the young Quebecan. She had been quietly thinking of a little name to call their duo when the obvious came up, and she chuckled inwardly at the odd little coincidence.
Once they got to the river bank, Sam had immediately dropped his bag and started to scoop water into his hands and began patting it onto his face. Delilah instead, gazed at the running river, flowing rapidly down the plains. The river looked rough along the edges, but the center looked surprisingly smooth.
She imagined for a minute, what it would be like, if this whole valley had the same weather as Canada. Like, how very cool it would look to see this whole river frozen over. Delilah saw herself, in a pair of ice skates, on the smooth surface of the frozen river. She had always adored ice skating, except she usually did so at the ice rink. Suddenly the ice beneath her began to crack and she panicked as the river pulled her under.
"Nice and cold. Going to come over, or should I splash you?" Sam said, breaking her out of her thoughts.
Delilah bit her bottom lip, as the image of the river swallowing her up replayed again and again in her mind as he called her over. She didn't want to go near the river at all, to be honest. But it was hot. Maybe she'd be polite and have a quick feel? Yeah she'd do that. Her skin was much too dry anyway. Being into skin care thanks to her mother Mimi, made the issue even more obvious for her. Gosh she hated dry skin!
After placing her bag on the ground a safe distance from the river bank, Delilah moved forward to join the boy. It was noticeably much greener closer to the water, and the quiet girl sorta liked that. It was exactly how grass was supposed to look, not that hay colored stuff that covered the rest of the dry plains.
Gently, Delilah placed her hands into the water at the shallowest point she could. Goodness, it was cold, as Sam said. She too dabbed some against the dry skin of her face and neck and also along her arms and legs, as if the water was moisturizer. It was quite nice, a delightful experience.
Until her hand knocked over a coastal rock, which was immediately picked up by the currents, sending it to the middle, where it sank. Well, that made sense. The bridge was here for a reason. This was most likely the deepest part of the river, so she had to be extra careful.
After getting her share of the refreshing fresh water, Delilah backed off again to her bag. She was hungry after all that walking and needed something to eat. She might as well check her bag while she was at it.
Opening it up, Delilah began browsing through the contents. A map with a compass, like the one Sam had been using the whole day was near the top. The large white box, with the cross, was easily identifiable as a first aid kit. She frowned once she saw the flashlight. If she knew that, that, was there, than maybe she wouldn't have freaked out as much in those mines. Digging in some more, lead Delilah to the rest of her rations and water, including a canteen, which she could fill in from the river, which seemed drinkable enough. She pulled out the bag of beef jerky, opened it up and started eating some as she continued looking for other items.
The most peculiar object in her day pack was a long metal cased object, with a handle, which she hadn't notice before. Curiosity got the better of her so she had to take a look. She put a hand into the loop of the ornate handle and the other hand around the gold colored, metal casing. She didn't even need to pull the whole thing out entirely. Just one or two inches up and Delilah already seen the glint of the blade and the sharpened edge beneath it.
What Delilah had, was some kind of fancily constructed sword, which looked like it could have been owned by a high ranking officer during the civil war. It was certainly an impressive work of craftsmanship, but it had Delilah worried. Did, Sam have one too? No wait, she remembered what the Sheriff had said over in the train. Everyone was given random weapons to kill each other with. What, was she supposed to use this on somebody? Her heart rate sped up, as the reality of "the game" they were in, once again engulfed her mind.
Delilah couldn't dare look at that saber again. She pushed the casing back down and shoved it into her unzipped bag. She continued to eat and rest as Sam cooled off.
Delilah joined him at the side of the river, dabbing water on her skin as well. Then she backed off again, and Sam heard the sounds of her rummaging through her backpack. Probably a good idea.
Sam splashed more water on his face. He knew they'd have to move on eventually, and he intended to keep the cool feeling as long as he could. For all he knew, he already had a sunburn from all the walking before. That'd be a pain, literally. His clothes were kind of soaked now, along with the map sitting in his pocket, but he didn't care. He wasn't going to get hypothermia; it'd all dry off soon enough. To tell the truth, he was more concerned about the latter than about the former, if at all.
The water still dripping in small rivulets down his hair, he picked up his bag, walked over to where Delilah was, and sat himself down in the grass next to her.
Time to look through his bag as well. He'd only looked through it once or twice before, for the compass and map and lighter.
The first thing he found was the bottle of maple syrup, still sitting on top of all the other stuff. He put that aside on the grass.
Flashlight. Well, whoops. He didn't know how he'd missed it before. That could have come in handy earlier. Not to mention that flashlights didn't usually go out if they were dropped. He did suppose it was a good thing in a way, though, since it could have broken if it had smashed against a rock or something. He wasn't quite sure what he was supposed to do with the flashlight now. Maybe if they were still in this place come dark, he'd have an opportunity to use it.
Hopefully, though, they'd be out by then. It had to be a mistake of some kind, right? He hadn't seen any of his other classmates, anyway, yet. He wasn't sure what it might mean if it was only him and Delilah. Some sort of lame practical joke, maybe.
He kept rummaging. First aid kit - okay. He cracked it open a little bit. Sweet, a bar of soap. He'd... save that for later, he supposed. It was probably cheap hotel soap or something like that. There was also a lot of stuff in there that he didn't quite recognize, but he figured he'd never need it anyway.
There were some other things in the backpack, like a canteen that burbled when he shook it, and a tin of spam that he was fairly sure would cause chronic indigestion, but his mind was on other things.
So much stuff.
The more stuff there was, the higher amount of preparedness that must have gone into this endeavor. The higher amount of preparedness, the less probability that this was a joke. The less probability that this was a joke...
Sam pulled out one of the loaves of bread that were inside his backpack, zipped up the backpack, and threw it aside. More eating, less thinking. He was beginning to repeat the same suspicions in his head anyway, and that wouldn't get him anywhere. He needed more information, and he'd get it soon enough, once they found other people.
He took a bite of the bread. Hard as rock. He made a face.
Sam splashed more water on his face. He knew they'd have to move on eventually, and he intended to keep the cool feeling as long as he could. For all he knew, he already had a sunburn from all the walking before. That'd be a pain, literally. His clothes were kind of soaked now, along with the map sitting in his pocket, but he didn't care. He wasn't going to get hypothermia; it'd all dry off soon enough. To tell the truth, he was more concerned about the latter than about the former, if at all.
The water still dripping in small rivulets down his hair, he picked up his bag, walked over to where Delilah was, and sat himself down in the grass next to her.
Time to look through his bag as well. He'd only looked through it once or twice before, for the compass and map and lighter.
The first thing he found was the bottle of maple syrup, still sitting on top of all the other stuff. He put that aside on the grass.
Flashlight. Well, whoops. He didn't know how he'd missed it before. That could have come in handy earlier. Not to mention that flashlights didn't usually go out if they were dropped. He did suppose it was a good thing in a way, though, since it could have broken if it had smashed against a rock or something. He wasn't quite sure what he was supposed to do with the flashlight now. Maybe if they were still in this place come dark, he'd have an opportunity to use it.
Hopefully, though, they'd be out by then. It had to be a mistake of some kind, right? He hadn't seen any of his other classmates, anyway, yet. He wasn't sure what it might mean if it was only him and Delilah. Some sort of lame practical joke, maybe.
He kept rummaging. First aid kit - okay. He cracked it open a little bit. Sweet, a bar of soap. He'd... save that for later, he supposed. It was probably cheap hotel soap or something like that. There was also a lot of stuff in there that he didn't quite recognize, but he figured he'd never need it anyway.
There were some other things in the backpack, like a canteen that burbled when he shook it, and a tin of spam that he was fairly sure would cause chronic indigestion, but his mind was on other things.
So much stuff.
The more stuff there was, the higher amount of preparedness that must have gone into this endeavor. The higher amount of preparedness, the less probability that this was a joke. The less probability that this was a joke...
Sam pulled out one of the loaves of bread that were inside his backpack, zipped up the backpack, and threw it aside. More eating, less thinking. He was beginning to repeat the same suspicions in his head anyway, and that wouldn't get him anywhere. He needed more information, and he'd get it soon enough, once they found other people.
He took a bite of the bread. Hard as rock. He made a face.
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After seeing her ruffling through her bag, a quite noticeably, wetter Sam moved away from the river and parked himself next to Delilah to do the same thing. Delilah watched him while she ate a few more pieces of beef jerky with some of the home baked bread which was also provided. She took careful note on what he pulled from his bag and comparef themto her own.
Everything Sam had was virtually identical to her bag. But did this mean he also had one of those cavalry sabers too? Nope. He had completely emptied the thing out and she hadn't seen one. But, then what did he have, instead? She scanned the stuff scattered on the ground to make sure she didn't miss anything.
Flashlight. Check.
First Aid Kit. Check.
Canteen, rations, more rations. Check, Check, Check.
Hey wait a minute. A bottle of Maple Syrup? She didn't have one of those - well, she did, back home in Canada that is, but not here. Was Maple Syrup, seriously Sam Wilson's assigned weapon? Considering the whole concept of the game they were in, Delilah considered that a bit, cruel.
What if Sam were attacked? The only thing he was given to defend himself was a bottle of Maple Syrup. How was that supposed to be of any help?
The French Canadian girl's eyes veered to his face for a second feeling worried for her companion's well being, until he took a bite of the bread.
Sam made a face and Delilah couldn't help but giggle.
Everything Sam had was virtually identical to her bag. But did this mean he also had one of those cavalry sabers too? Nope. He had completely emptied the thing out and she hadn't seen one. But, then what did he have, instead? She scanned the stuff scattered on the ground to make sure she didn't miss anything.
Flashlight. Check.
First Aid Kit. Check.
Canteen, rations, more rations. Check, Check, Check.
Hey wait a minute. A bottle of Maple Syrup? She didn't have one of those - well, she did, back home in Canada that is, but not here. Was Maple Syrup, seriously Sam Wilson's assigned weapon? Considering the whole concept of the game they were in, Delilah considered that a bit, cruel.
What if Sam were attacked? The only thing he was given to defend himself was a bottle of Maple Syrup. How was that supposed to be of any help?
The French Canadian girl's eyes veered to his face for a second feeling worried for her companion's well being, until he took a bite of the bread.
Sam made a face and Delilah couldn't help but giggle.
Sam was making quite a mess, wasn't he?
Delilah giggled at him; he wasn't sure if it was because he had just basically emptied out his backpack, or because he had made a face. That bread was pretty hard.
He gave her a sheepish smile in return, then tucked the bread under his arm and set to packing everything back in the backpack. Better to be prepared to move on, anyway, even if they were relaxing on the grass for the time being.
The maple syrup. He hesitated for a second, then packed everything else first. It could prove to be useful.
Sitting back down, he uncapped the bottle of maple syrup and poured some on the bread. Some dripped on his hands; he'd wash that off later. He considered the bread for a minute, then took another bite.
Still hard as rock. It was... sweeter, he supposed. Maybe it was a little softer, too, as the syrup soaked into the bread. His culinary expertise - that was to say, nonexistent - was certainly creating an improvement in his living quality, that was for sure.
He took a few more bites, then glanced over at Delilah. Might as well get to know her. He wasn't giving up hopes on getting out of this place quickly, but there was no reason not to get to know her better than he had known her at school. She seemed like a nice person - someone that didn't cause unnecessary trouble or drama. Sam liked those sorts of people, probably even more now than ever. They were the sorts of people that Sam trusted wouldn't panic in a weird situation like this, wouldn't crack under the pressure.
She wasn't a threat, and Sam liked that. Safety was always nice.
"So, what are you planning to do when we get out of here?" he finally asked. It wasn't a probing question, but maybe he could gain some insight out of it.
Delilah giggled at him; he wasn't sure if it was because he had just basically emptied out his backpack, or because he had made a face. That bread was pretty hard.
He gave her a sheepish smile in return, then tucked the bread under his arm and set to packing everything back in the backpack. Better to be prepared to move on, anyway, even if they were relaxing on the grass for the time being.
The maple syrup. He hesitated for a second, then packed everything else first. It could prove to be useful.
Sitting back down, he uncapped the bottle of maple syrup and poured some on the bread. Some dripped on his hands; he'd wash that off later. He considered the bread for a minute, then took another bite.
Still hard as rock. It was... sweeter, he supposed. Maybe it was a little softer, too, as the syrup soaked into the bread. His culinary expertise - that was to say, nonexistent - was certainly creating an improvement in his living quality, that was for sure.
He took a few more bites, then glanced over at Delilah. Might as well get to know her. He wasn't giving up hopes on getting out of this place quickly, but there was no reason not to get to know her better than he had known her at school. She seemed like a nice person - someone that didn't cause unnecessary trouble or drama. Sam liked those sorts of people, probably even more now than ever. They were the sorts of people that Sam trusted wouldn't panic in a weird situation like this, wouldn't crack under the pressure.
She wasn't a threat, and Sam liked that. Safety was always nice.
"So, what are you planning to do when we get out of here?" he finally asked. It wasn't a probing question, but maybe he could gain some insight out of it.
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Sam began pouring some of the maple syrup onto his bread in front of Delilah and to be honest, it looked far better here, than it would have back at home.
While eating, Sam decided to bring up a question to Delilah about what she planned to do once they got out of this place. Delilah shrugged, at first. She didn't really know what to say, being the quiet sort, but looking at his face again, she thought that maybe she'd entertain an answer for once. What could one simple conversation hurt?
She took a sip of water and then finally spoke up. She knew English, near perfectly, but still, at home all she spoke was French, so that accent was still clear whenever she would talk elsewhere.
"Well... I enjoy ice-skating. I go to the ice rink fairly often, for eh'some-solitude? Maybe spend time with my friend, Pepper. She was on the train with us. Another one is, Clair Belvedere. I hope they are okay..."
She trailed off looking at the sky before speaking up again.
"I usually spend time on my own, when not with family. I collect things. I watch movies... for the acting. It's why I enjoy Theatre club, so much. I was thinking maybe'eh, someday, I would attend Julliard. Either that or go into cosmetology like my mother. I like to keep myself and help others look their best."
She gave one of her friendly lip only smiles, which was a sign that she was done talking. It was nice to actually have a pleasant chat with someone, friendly. It warmed Delilah up a little bit as she nibbled on her own bread before turning the same question back on Sam.
"Et toi?"
While eating, Sam decided to bring up a question to Delilah about what she planned to do once they got out of this place. Delilah shrugged, at first. She didn't really know what to say, being the quiet sort, but looking at his face again, she thought that maybe she'd entertain an answer for once. What could one simple conversation hurt?
She took a sip of water and then finally spoke up. She knew English, near perfectly, but still, at home all she spoke was French, so that accent was still clear whenever she would talk elsewhere.
"Well... I enjoy ice-skating. I go to the ice rink fairly often, for eh'some-solitude? Maybe spend time with my friend, Pepper. She was on the train with us. Another one is, Clair Belvedere. I hope they are okay..."
She trailed off looking at the sky before speaking up again.
"I usually spend time on my own, when not with family. I collect things. I watch movies... for the acting. It's why I enjoy Theatre club, so much. I was thinking maybe'eh, someday, I would attend Julliard. Either that or go into cosmetology like my mother. I like to keep myself and help others look their best."
She gave one of her friendly lip only smiles, which was a sign that she was done talking. It was nice to actually have a pleasant chat with someone, friendly. It warmed Delilah up a little bit as she nibbled on her own bread before turning the same question back on Sam.
"Et toi?"
Delilah shrugged and Sam thought maybe for a second he'd said something wrong - but she just looked at him for a second, took a drink, and started talking.
He listened, his head resting lightly on his hands.
Oh. That girl. Apparently Clair Belvedere was Delilah's friend. Sam wasn't quite fond of her, from what he could remember. But... Delilah was okay. If she could be friends with Clair, maybe Sam could afford to give Clair the benefit of the doubt. As for Pepper, Sam didn't really know her too well.
Maybe they'd find them, when they started walking again.
Delilah smiled, then asked him something, something that he didn't quite understand. Sounded like a different language. Probably was. But he understood the tone well enough.
So Sam took a deep breath, and started talking.
"And me, I suppose?" He tapped the side of his foot on the ground, thinking. "I carve things, you know, out of wood. They don't turn out so good, but... it's nice. To make things. Guess I'll be doing more of that once we get home."
"Maybe if we find something, I can carve something for your collection?" Small laugh. "Call it the Blob or something."
Sam took another breath, then blew it out slowly, his features settling into a more serious countenance. "Long-term stuff, probably find some college in the city. Always wanted to see the city, you know? Then I don't really know, after that." He guessed he hadn't ever thought that far. There wasn't much after that that he could really see at the moment. Get a job, maybe get married, grow old, die. It was a just a rough framework skeleton that he hadn't quite fleshed out yet.
Maybe someday he'd figure it all out.
He looked back at Delilah, watching her nibble on her bread.
"Syrup?" he offered, a smile tugging at the corner of his lip.
He listened, his head resting lightly on his hands.
Oh. That girl. Apparently Clair Belvedere was Delilah's friend. Sam wasn't quite fond of her, from what he could remember. But... Delilah was okay. If she could be friends with Clair, maybe Sam could afford to give Clair the benefit of the doubt. As for Pepper, Sam didn't really know her too well.
Maybe they'd find them, when they started walking again.
Delilah smiled, then asked him something, something that he didn't quite understand. Sounded like a different language. Probably was. But he understood the tone well enough.
So Sam took a deep breath, and started talking.
"And me, I suppose?" He tapped the side of his foot on the ground, thinking. "I carve things, you know, out of wood. They don't turn out so good, but... it's nice. To make things. Guess I'll be doing more of that once we get home."
"Maybe if we find something, I can carve something for your collection?" Small laugh. "Call it the Blob or something."
Sam took another breath, then blew it out slowly, his features settling into a more serious countenance. "Long-term stuff, probably find some college in the city. Always wanted to see the city, you know? Then I don't really know, after that." He guessed he hadn't ever thought that far. There wasn't much after that that he could really see at the moment. Get a job, maybe get married, grow old, die. It was a just a rough framework skeleton that he hadn't quite fleshed out yet.
Maybe someday he'd figure it all out.
He looked back at Delilah, watching her nibble on her bread.
"Syrup?" he offered, a smile tugging at the corner of his lip.
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MurderWeasel
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- Team Affiliation: Jewel's Leviathans
((Richard Ormsby continued from Go with the Flow))
Sure enough, following the river led somewhere worth going.
Richard had watched as the banks of the river got steeper. He'd had a pretty good view of the dry landscape, and nothing had stood out more than the bridge, so he'd decided that it would be his first resting place. Something about it was attractive. Maybe he could set up under it, in the shade, and pull some highwayman stuff. Trolls lurked under bridges for a reason, he figured. They were access points, important places of transit. They were also shady and cool, free of this infernal heat. All he had to do was get a gun, and he'd be set. He could get the drop on people before they even knew he was coming.
There was just one little problem. Specifically, it seemed some other people were lurking at his chosen stronghold, sitting by the river and eating and chatting and not doing anything like a good job watching their surroundings. Richard knew them, of course. He knew almost everyone in Alderbrook. Samuel Wilson and Delilah Rivers. Theatre geeks. Boring, probably wimpy. They both had bags, though.
There was no reason to start off on a hostile foot. Richard was pretty sure, given their complete lack of a clue when it came to watching their backs, that they hadn't figured out this might be real. He was pretty sure it wouldn't even be so hard to talk them into giving him their bags. For all they knew, someone would be along to pick them up any moment. By the time they figured out they'd lost their supplies, it'd be far too late to do anything about it.
And, if they did decide to cause trouble, well, Richard had a plan for that, too. It mostly hinged around the fact that he was bigger and stronger than both of them put together. He wouldn't even need this to last very long. One smack would probably have the both of them crying uncle.
He was holding his cowbell, and, as he started down towards them, he gave it a nice ring, just to let them know he was coming. This was supposed to start off on a good foot. No reason to pick a conflict where none needed to exist. He was pretty sure they'd just do the reasonable thing, no questions asked.
"Hey, Samson and Delilah," he called out, continuing to close with them. "I trust nobody's getting blinded, yeah?"
Sure enough, following the river led somewhere worth going.
Richard had watched as the banks of the river got steeper. He'd had a pretty good view of the dry landscape, and nothing had stood out more than the bridge, so he'd decided that it would be his first resting place. Something about it was attractive. Maybe he could set up under it, in the shade, and pull some highwayman stuff. Trolls lurked under bridges for a reason, he figured. They were access points, important places of transit. They were also shady and cool, free of this infernal heat. All he had to do was get a gun, and he'd be set. He could get the drop on people before they even knew he was coming.
There was just one little problem. Specifically, it seemed some other people were lurking at his chosen stronghold, sitting by the river and eating and chatting and not doing anything like a good job watching their surroundings. Richard knew them, of course. He knew almost everyone in Alderbrook. Samuel Wilson and Delilah Rivers. Theatre geeks. Boring, probably wimpy. They both had bags, though.
There was no reason to start off on a hostile foot. Richard was pretty sure, given their complete lack of a clue when it came to watching their backs, that they hadn't figured out this might be real. He was pretty sure it wouldn't even be so hard to talk them into giving him their bags. For all they knew, someone would be along to pick them up any moment. By the time they figured out they'd lost their supplies, it'd be far too late to do anything about it.
And, if they did decide to cause trouble, well, Richard had a plan for that, too. It mostly hinged around the fact that he was bigger and stronger than both of them put together. He wouldn't even need this to last very long. One smack would probably have the both of them crying uncle.
He was holding his cowbell, and, as he started down towards them, he gave it a nice ring, just to let them know he was coming. This was supposed to start off on a good foot. No reason to pick a conflict where none needed to exist. He was pretty sure they'd just do the reasonable thing, no questions asked.
"Hey, Samson and Delilah," he called out, continuing to close with them. "I trust nobody's getting blinded, yeah?"
Delilah put her hand to her mouth in slight embarrassment when she realized that she had by her regular nature, spoken French to Samuel instead of English, when he started his response with a question. She nodded back in response, and decided that it would be much better if she had kept her mouth shut, rather than speaking at all, like she always had back in school. It was moments like that which reminded her why she didn't like to talk too often. She'd just mess the words up and accidentally start ranting in French or something around the English speaking student populace - which was pretty much everyone except for herself, as far as she knew.
She kept quiet, listening to Sam talk a little about himself. It was an interesting tidbit, that the boy loved to make things, carve things to be exact. She relaxed a bit, when he joked around and offered to make something for her. He talked more about future plans, probably as a way to mirror her own answer to his question from earlier. Then he offered her some syrup.
"Sure." She said keeping her response short as she held the bread out in-between herself and Sam.
Right at this moment a ringing of a bell interrupted the picnic, capturing Delilah's attention. She looked up to the rail bridge above the slope to see a face of a classmate she didn't much like at all.
Much like Clair used to be, Richard Ormsby was undoubtedly a cruel bully, but unlike Clair who apologized for her past behavior and became a better person, Richard continued to be a jerk. He wasn't pleasant to be around at all, but at least he was still one of their classmates, and even he had the common goal to figure things out and find a way back home right? Maybe just this one time he'd put bullying aside due to these unusual circumstances.
At least she hoped he would.
"Hey, Samson and Delilah," he called out, continuing to close in on them. "I trust nobody's getting blinded, yeah?"
Like the biblical allusion from which she chuckled to herself before, the boy mentioned the same idea except with a sort of mocking tone, that Delilah hated so much. Well the good thing at least, was that Richard stuck to his status quo, in terms of usual behavior, giving a sense of normality with the whole situation. Whatever, she could deal by method of staying in the background and avoiding trouble makers like Richard. She always did back home anyway. Just as long as he sticks to the teasing, it would be fine.
Sticks and stones as they say.
She gave no response except for a look, to acknowledge his approach, before returning back to her meal, as she usually did during lunch time at Alderbrook. If anything, she was sure Sam could handle the talking. She sure as hell didn't want to.
She kept quiet, listening to Sam talk a little about himself. It was an interesting tidbit, that the boy loved to make things, carve things to be exact. She relaxed a bit, when he joked around and offered to make something for her. He talked more about future plans, probably as a way to mirror her own answer to his question from earlier. Then he offered her some syrup.
"Sure." She said keeping her response short as she held the bread out in-between herself and Sam.
Right at this moment a ringing of a bell interrupted the picnic, capturing Delilah's attention. She looked up to the rail bridge above the slope to see a face of a classmate she didn't much like at all.
Much like Clair used to be, Richard Ormsby was undoubtedly a cruel bully, but unlike Clair who apologized for her past behavior and became a better person, Richard continued to be a jerk. He wasn't pleasant to be around at all, but at least he was still one of their classmates, and even he had the common goal to figure things out and find a way back home right? Maybe just this one time he'd put bullying aside due to these unusual circumstances.
At least she hoped he would.
"Hey, Samson and Delilah," he called out, continuing to close in on them. "I trust nobody's getting blinded, yeah?"
Like the biblical allusion from which she chuckled to herself before, the boy mentioned the same idea except with a sort of mocking tone, that Delilah hated so much. Well the good thing at least, was that Richard stuck to his status quo, in terms of usual behavior, giving a sense of normality with the whole situation. Whatever, she could deal by method of staying in the background and avoiding trouble makers like Richard. She always did back home anyway. Just as long as he sticks to the teasing, it would be fine.
Sticks and stones as they say.
She gave no response except for a look, to acknowledge his approach, before returning back to her meal, as she usually did during lunch time at Alderbrook. If anything, she was sure Sam could handle the talking. She sure as hell didn't want to.
Sam poured some syrup on Delilah's bread, then frowned at the interruption of his display of his culinary expertise by the ringing of a bell. He capped the maple syrup, then looked up.
Richard Ormsby.
Classmate, bully, and fellow woodworker. Most importantly, threat. Richard was a threat, because of his bullying, because of the rumors that he picked fights. Sam didn't trust him. Who knew what sort of game Richard thought this was?
They'd been looking for people, though, and it would be a shame to pass on the opportunity. He was a threat, but... maybe he'd be a negligible one. The more people they had looking for a way out, the easier it would be to get back on the train and start heading back home.
Best to just be friendly, but keep watching him. See if he tried anything funny.
"Nope. No blinding here," Sam finally responded, standing up and brushing his pants off. "Richard, right? How're you holding up?"
Richard Ormsby.
Classmate, bully, and fellow woodworker. Most importantly, threat. Richard was a threat, because of his bullying, because of the rumors that he picked fights. Sam didn't trust him. Who knew what sort of game Richard thought this was?
They'd been looking for people, though, and it would be a shame to pass on the opportunity. He was a threat, but... maybe he'd be a negligible one. The more people they had looking for a way out, the easier it would be to get back on the train and start heading back home.
Best to just be friendly, but keep watching him. See if he tried anything funny.
"Nope. No blinding here," Sam finally responded, standing up and brushing his pants off. "Richard, right? How're you holding up?"
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MurderWeasel
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They weren't hostile, and they weren't assertive. Good. Everything was rolling along nice and easy, just how Richard liked it. This was probably going to be a piece of cake. Of course, there was the chance one of them was packing some sort of hand grenade or machine gun or other awful implement of destruction. Richard hadn't ruled out the possibility that nobody had a real weapon, but he sure wasn't going to count on it. It'd be better to coax them into sharing their pulls, just to get a grip on the situation and figure out if getting their stuff was even a tenable plan. He wasn't about to try to wrestle a pistol loose. No, if they were well-armed, he'd need to pick a new tactic. Flies, honey, vinegar, all that good stuff.
"Yeah," he said. Sam knew who he was, had to. He was known around school. Maybe the boy was just pissed Richard had taken the liberty of nicknaming him. Tough luck. "I'm doing pretty good, 'cept for the sun and the part where I got kidnapped by some asshole."
That summed it up pretty nicely. Had some good camaraderie going there, too, since they were all in the same boat. Of course, Richard was thinking ahead, and they were... were they pouring syrup on the bread? Yuck. Richard wasn't a big syrup fan; the stuff always got everywhere and was a pain to wash out. He'd let them keep that, let them stew in the wonders they were doing for Canadian stereotypes.
He carefully maneuvered his way down to them, being sure not to trip. Laughably helpless though Sam and Delilah were, that river looked like it could be serious business. Richard knew how to swim, and he was pretty strong, but it didn't take much to carry the strongest swimmer into a rock, and if that happened, it was game over.
As he stopped, maybe eight feet from the pair, he rang the bell again.
"This is my weapon. Hilarious, isn't it?"
"Yeah," he said. Sam knew who he was, had to. He was known around school. Maybe the boy was just pissed Richard had taken the liberty of nicknaming him. Tough luck. "I'm doing pretty good, 'cept for the sun and the part where I got kidnapped by some asshole."
That summed it up pretty nicely. Had some good camaraderie going there, too, since they were all in the same boat. Of course, Richard was thinking ahead, and they were... were they pouring syrup on the bread? Yuck. Richard wasn't a big syrup fan; the stuff always got everywhere and was a pain to wash out. He'd let them keep that, let them stew in the wonders they were doing for Canadian stereotypes.
He carefully maneuvered his way down to them, being sure not to trip. Laughably helpless though Sam and Delilah were, that river looked like it could be serious business. Richard knew how to swim, and he was pretty strong, but it didn't take much to carry the strongest swimmer into a rock, and if that happened, it was game over.
As he stopped, maybe eight feet from the pair, he rang the bell again.
"This is my weapon. Hilarious, isn't it?"
((Skipping with permission.))
Richard was being friendly enough, so Sam smiled at Richard's joke about the cowbell, if it was one. The smile never reached his eyes.
"Yeah. Don't know anyone who got a good weapon. Actually, we haven't seen anyone else..." Sam shrugged, the maple syrup bottle still clasped tightly in his hand. "You seen anyone?"
Delilah was being quiet. Sam shot a quick glance at her. She looked pretty content with what she was doing, so he decided not to drag her into the conversation. Weapons and all that. She probably wasn't interested anyway.
He might not have told the truth about the weapon draws, he realized; he hadn't asked Delilah what she had gotten for a weapon. Maybe he'd do that later. There'd be plenty of time in the future, and she certainly wasn't a threat that he needed to watch.
As for Richard... It was best to figure out his intentions first. Keep being friendly. If everything went well, then they'd be one member up - but he'd have to keep watching his back. He was beginning to dislike this mind game that the Sheriff had trapped them in more and more. It was making him paranoid.
Sam cleared his throat. "It's all probably a big joke, you know? We'll be back on the train in no time." He watched Richard carefully, trying to gauge his reaction, to see what he thought of the game.
Richard was being friendly enough, so Sam smiled at Richard's joke about the cowbell, if it was one. The smile never reached his eyes.
"Yeah. Don't know anyone who got a good weapon. Actually, we haven't seen anyone else..." Sam shrugged, the maple syrup bottle still clasped tightly in his hand. "You seen anyone?"
Delilah was being quiet. Sam shot a quick glance at her. She looked pretty content with what she was doing, so he decided not to drag her into the conversation. Weapons and all that. She probably wasn't interested anyway.
He might not have told the truth about the weapon draws, he realized; he hadn't asked Delilah what she had gotten for a weapon. Maybe he'd do that later. There'd be plenty of time in the future, and she certainly wasn't a threat that he needed to watch.
As for Richard... It was best to figure out his intentions first. Keep being friendly. If everything went well, then they'd be one member up - but he'd have to keep watching his back. He was beginning to dislike this mind game that the Sheriff had trapped them in more and more. It was making him paranoid.
Sam cleared his throat. "It's all probably a big joke, you know? We'll be back on the train in no time." He watched Richard carefully, trying to gauge his reaction, to see what he thought of the game.
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MurderWeasel
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"Nah," Richard replied. "You're the first ones I've seen."
That was good. It meant everyone was spread out a bit. Sam had confirmed that they didn't have worthwhile weapons, either. Richard did consider the possibility of deception briefly, but it seemed unlikely in a pair so harmless-seeming. Alone, one of them might have panicked. Together, they would probably be too focused on keeping each other out of trouble to offer much in the way of resistance, much less plan a murder spree.
Better still, Sam was convinced it was all a joke. He thought they'd be back on the train any time. Clearly, he hadn't played around with the collar encircling his throat yet. Well, all the better for Richard. He just had to encourage that impression, and he'd waltz out of here with triple the supplies of everyone else. Then, he'd be set to outlast the others if it wasn't a joke, and, if someone did turn up to rescue them, he could claim he'd just been scared and overreacted. It wasn't like he was going to kill anyone. No way anyone'd do that. Alderbrook's populace just didn't have the guts for it.
"And, yeah, lame-ass joke, but a joke for sure," he said. "I mean, if I were you I wouldn't be eating the stuff the lunatic kidnapper gave us, 'case it's rat-poisoned or something."—a chuckle here, cut the bite a bit, but let him worry—"But, you know, not like it's gonna hurt me or anything. I mean, maybe you better toss your bags over, though, just so I can make sure there's nothing dangerous in 'em, scorpions or whatever."
Richard didn't even care enough to be overly subtle about his intentions. These two would probably accept it as status quo, not want to get into any trouble, and cave instantly. If they didn't, it wasn't like they could stop him from just walking over and taking their stuff. No, he'd get what he wanted here, one way or the other. It was like normal, except he had a ready-made excuse if any authority figures took a dim view of his actions, and there was probably nobody around to do so anyways.
That was good. It meant everyone was spread out a bit. Sam had confirmed that they didn't have worthwhile weapons, either. Richard did consider the possibility of deception briefly, but it seemed unlikely in a pair so harmless-seeming. Alone, one of them might have panicked. Together, they would probably be too focused on keeping each other out of trouble to offer much in the way of resistance, much less plan a murder spree.
Better still, Sam was convinced it was all a joke. He thought they'd be back on the train any time. Clearly, he hadn't played around with the collar encircling his throat yet. Well, all the better for Richard. He just had to encourage that impression, and he'd waltz out of here with triple the supplies of everyone else. Then, he'd be set to outlast the others if it wasn't a joke, and, if someone did turn up to rescue them, he could claim he'd just been scared and overreacted. It wasn't like he was going to kill anyone. No way anyone'd do that. Alderbrook's populace just didn't have the guts for it.
"And, yeah, lame-ass joke, but a joke for sure," he said. "I mean, if I were you I wouldn't be eating the stuff the lunatic kidnapper gave us, 'case it's rat-poisoned or something."—a chuckle here, cut the bite a bit, but let him worry—"But, you know, not like it's gonna hurt me or anything. I mean, maybe you better toss your bags over, though, just so I can make sure there's nothing dangerous in 'em, scorpions or whatever."
Richard didn't even care enough to be overly subtle about his intentions. These two would probably accept it as status quo, not want to get into any trouble, and cave instantly. If they didn't, it wasn't like they could stop him from just walking over and taking their stuff. No, he'd get what he wanted here, one way or the other. It was like normal, except he had a ready-made excuse if any authority figures took a dim view of his actions, and there was probably nobody around to do so anyways.