((Grant flashbacked from Radical-6))
So, this wasn't how Grant was expecting everything to go when he got up for school this morning.
The Program was the last place he wanted to be, even below the front. At least in the army you only had a chance of getting shot up, and there was always the possibility of getting some assignment that didn't stick you directly in the line of fire. There weren't any non-combatants in the Program.
This was shit and unfair and unfair and shit. Hadn't his family paid their dues with what happened to Gerald? Like, come on, 'oh sorry Mr. and Mrs. Gault we know your son got crippled for life fighting for us but your other son needs to put his life on the line too'?
Bullshit.
But, bullshit or not, it was important to remember that he hadn't been shot up just yet. Up until that happened, everything was still good, in theory. He shouldn't count himself out just yet. Stay positive, right? Show off some of that good ol' red blooded American spirit.
Admittedly, as confidence boosts went, going through his stuff and learning that he was packing a bomb was a pretty big one. Like, that was a tough trump card to beat, right? 'Hey Grant I'm gonna stab you with this sword' 'Yeah, well imaginary classmate ima blow you up so fuck off'.
His footsteps were loud on the planks beneath his feet; in Grant's opinion, the sooner he made it further into the town the better. Problem was that every time he thought he was finding a way inward, he just wound up crisscrossing another pier... or dock? Was it a dock?
Shit, he didn't know. He just knew that the layout here was weird and he kept running into kind of dead ends and he was honestly considering retracing his steps to that stone building he'd woken up in and trying to climb out the back window cause at least that had given him a clear view of inland.
This was a corner up ahead though, so maybe if he rounded it there wouldn't be another dead end—
"Whoa! Uh, hey."
He smiled.
"Sorry, spooked me. Everything uh, everything good with you?"
Earlier That Morning
Phase 1 (0-12 Hours)
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MurderWeasel
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"Oh."
Oh. There was somebody already. Maribel Bay wasn't quite ready for this just yet.
The truth was, of course, that Maribel wasn't ready in the slightest for any of what was transpiring. The Program was this far-off concept for her, this thing that happened to other people, that is if it was even real in any material way, which it didn't quite seem to be. One of her cousins had been online friends with someone whose IRL best friend's girlfriend's sister had been chosen and had beaten someone to death with a brick or something a few months ago, and that had felt about as close as the situation would ever get to Maribel's world. But now that had all fallen apart, and as a result Maribel had been left with one plan and one alone: avoid absolutely everyone.
It wouldn't be too hard, she hoped. She spent much of her time avoiding her peers already, just because she didn't find much in common with them. She played sports—softball specifically, third base, and was damn good at it—but the team were her team, not her friends. Her friends mostly went to school in Boulder, a strange little place that prided itself on pretending to embody conscientious dissent, and Maribel had often talked about how much she wished she were still there, and her parents had told her to chill out, that Denver was so close visiting was easy, that it offered so many more opportunities for career advancement and setting their lives on a better course. Well, Maribel was going to get one last posthumous laugh there.
Really, though, she was pretty glad most of her friends weren't here.
Who was here was Grant Gault. She'd almost run into him bodily, and like okay, in another circumstance, honestly, that was maybe something she'd be sort of okay with, in like this metaphorical sense and also a sort of fantasy way, like Grant was hot but she didn't really talk to anyone enough to know them all that well, and it sort of intrigued and intimidated her that he greeted her by name from time to time even though she couldn't recall their ever actually being introduced. She knew his name too, yeah, but that was different. Everybody knew Grant Gault.
If she had to fail in her universal avoidance tactics, at least this was a pretty good person to do so with. Her heart was hammering (not because Grant was cute, maybe anywhere else but not here, here it was because he'd scared her so bad she couldn't even scream which was she guessed a little silver lining) and her breath was short and it took her a moment to parse that he was scared too. He wasn't as scared as she was, of course, because he was too cool and collected for that, but he was plenty scared and yet asking about her and how she was.
"Oh," she said again. "I'm... I think I'm okay. Also... also spooked."
She tried to chuckle, but it came out an ugly, nervous laugh.
"How are you?"
Oh. There was somebody already. Maribel Bay wasn't quite ready for this just yet.
The truth was, of course, that Maribel wasn't ready in the slightest for any of what was transpiring. The Program was this far-off concept for her, this thing that happened to other people, that is if it was even real in any material way, which it didn't quite seem to be. One of her cousins had been online friends with someone whose IRL best friend's girlfriend's sister had been chosen and had beaten someone to death with a brick or something a few months ago, and that had felt about as close as the situation would ever get to Maribel's world. But now that had all fallen apart, and as a result Maribel had been left with one plan and one alone: avoid absolutely everyone.
It wouldn't be too hard, she hoped. She spent much of her time avoiding her peers already, just because she didn't find much in common with them. She played sports—softball specifically, third base, and was damn good at it—but the team were her team, not her friends. Her friends mostly went to school in Boulder, a strange little place that prided itself on pretending to embody conscientious dissent, and Maribel had often talked about how much she wished she were still there, and her parents had told her to chill out, that Denver was so close visiting was easy, that it offered so many more opportunities for career advancement and setting their lives on a better course. Well, Maribel was going to get one last posthumous laugh there.
Really, though, she was pretty glad most of her friends weren't here.
Who was here was Grant Gault. She'd almost run into him bodily, and like okay, in another circumstance, honestly, that was maybe something she'd be sort of okay with, in like this metaphorical sense and also a sort of fantasy way, like Grant was hot but she didn't really talk to anyone enough to know them all that well, and it sort of intrigued and intimidated her that he greeted her by name from time to time even though she couldn't recall their ever actually being introduced. She knew his name too, yeah, but that was different. Everybody knew Grant Gault.
If she had to fail in her universal avoidance tactics, at least this was a pretty good person to do so with. Her heart was hammering (not because Grant was cute, maybe anywhere else but not here, here it was because he'd scared her so bad she couldn't even scream which was she guessed a little silver lining) and her breath was short and it took her a moment to parse that he was scared too. He wasn't as scared as she was, of course, because he was too cool and collected for that, but he was plenty scared and yet asking about her and how she was.
"Oh," she said again. "I'm... I think I'm okay. Also... also spooked."
She tried to chuckle, but it came out an ugly, nervous laugh.
"How are you?"
Grant relaxed slightly. Coherence was a good start, meant that at least his first meeting wasn't with someone who'd already managed to go complete loco what, thirty minutes into the game? Though thing to bear in mind of course, just because somebody wasn't screaming murder and waving a gun in your face and or shooting it at you didn't mean that they weren't still going to try kill you. Program had this real technical strategy called 'lying'.
Still, Maribel—he remembered her name because he'd always kind of made a point of at least being friendly to new transfers—was pretty decent as a first meeting went. Not the best either, but not the worst. He recognised her, he didn't have any beef with her and she didn't have any beef with him, which some people liked to pick now and then. And, back to the previous not-getting-shot-up deal, if she had a gun she wasn't toting it around which was basically as good as not having a gun unless she was a gun-fu quickdraw expert.
Shit.
The smile maybe broke some of the tension, or at least squished it down a bit, like when you put a foot in the trash can and stomped on it.
"Oh you know. This all is definitely a thing that's happening," he tried to keep the smile intact. "Trying to keep a button on it while I think of what to do."
Which should be plain enough to most people. If you panicked and started freaking out you could upgrade your chances from probably dead to definitely dead. Or wait, was that downgrade? Probably downgrade.
Anyways, seeing Maribel like this did actually help with that aforementioned thinking of what to do; pretty solidly actually.
"So, Maribel, I don't know if you had any ideas about—" he made a vague gesture over his head. "—all this, but I was thinking about grabbing a few people. You want to maybe tag along with me?"
Still, Maribel—he remembered her name because he'd always kind of made a point of at least being friendly to new transfers—was pretty decent as a first meeting went. Not the best either, but not the worst. He recognised her, he didn't have any beef with her and she didn't have any beef with him, which some people liked to pick now and then. And, back to the previous not-getting-shot-up deal, if she had a gun she wasn't toting it around which was basically as good as not having a gun unless she was a gun-fu quickdraw expert.
Shit.
The smile maybe broke some of the tension, or at least squished it down a bit, like when you put a foot in the trash can and stomped on it.
"Oh you know. This all is definitely a thing that's happening," he tried to keep the smile intact. "Trying to keep a button on it while I think of what to do."
Which should be plain enough to most people. If you panicked and started freaking out you could upgrade your chances from probably dead to definitely dead. Or wait, was that downgrade? Probably downgrade.
Anyways, seeing Maribel like this did actually help with that aforementioned thinking of what to do; pretty solidly actually.
"So, Maribel, I don't know if you had any ideas about—" he made a vague gesture over his head. "—all this, but I was thinking about grabbing a few people. You want to maybe tag along with me?"
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MurderWeasel
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Grant seemed calm. Or no, not calm, not exactly—he'd been startled, just not as much as Maribel had—but something adjacent: cool. He was cool in most senses of the word, collected and just, just cool, the sort of guy you wanted to hang out with, were drawn to in this strange way whether you wanted to be or not. Not chilly cool, though, not frosty or icy or elitist. Quite the opposite.
Grant was thinking ahead already, and Maribel was too, she guessed, but it wasn't quite the same. Her plan was passive, to hide and to not die. Grant seemed already headed for activity. He said he was getting people together, which meant he was presumably planning to actively do something. He invited her to join him like it was nothing.
Maribel almost said yes right away. It wasn't what she'd been thinking at all, but it was a way better deal than she was likely to get from anybody else, and they were early enough in this mess that she could still be fairly sure things were on the level. And besides, this was Grant, paying attention to her and thinking she was worth having along. He wasn't singling her out as special exactly, but he was including her, and here that meant a lot. They'd be relying on each other, putting their lives in each other's hands. If she'd thought about this situation without actually living it, it'd've seemed exciting, full of mystique.
But the thing was, reality wasn't quite like her imagination. Maribel didn't trust herself with Grant's life. She barely trusted herself with her own fate, and that was more important. And there was another side of it: Grant was cool, and she liked Grant, and, okay, she thought he was cute, but she wasn't really sure she'd risk her life for him if it came down to that. She didn't reciprocate his apparent willingness to enter a meaningful partnership any more than he'd ever reciprocated her quiet glances, and so it wouldn't be fair to him to take him up on this, to use him and hide behind him when she thought she might well break and run the moment things turned dicey, abandoning him to whatever sorry fate while she saved her own life.
"Thank you," she said, and meant it, but held up her left hand as she kept talking, keen enough to explain herself that she stumbled over her words. "I really, you see, it's... That means a lot to me but no. I think I want to, I just want to hide."
She'd planned to say that some other way, maybe "lay low" or "hole up" or "try stealth," but now she'd just gone and said it and laid on the table what a coward she was, so okay. She nibbled on the insides of her cheeks as she watched his face, thinking she should qualify her statement and make it sound less bad and then thinking that the smartest move when you realized you were digging yourself into a hole was to stop shoveling.
Grant was thinking ahead already, and Maribel was too, she guessed, but it wasn't quite the same. Her plan was passive, to hide and to not die. Grant seemed already headed for activity. He said he was getting people together, which meant he was presumably planning to actively do something. He invited her to join him like it was nothing.
Maribel almost said yes right away. It wasn't what she'd been thinking at all, but it was a way better deal than she was likely to get from anybody else, and they were early enough in this mess that she could still be fairly sure things were on the level. And besides, this was Grant, paying attention to her and thinking she was worth having along. He wasn't singling her out as special exactly, but he was including her, and here that meant a lot. They'd be relying on each other, putting their lives in each other's hands. If she'd thought about this situation without actually living it, it'd've seemed exciting, full of mystique.
But the thing was, reality wasn't quite like her imagination. Maribel didn't trust herself with Grant's life. She barely trusted herself with her own fate, and that was more important. And there was another side of it: Grant was cool, and she liked Grant, and, okay, she thought he was cute, but she wasn't really sure she'd risk her life for him if it came down to that. She didn't reciprocate his apparent willingness to enter a meaningful partnership any more than he'd ever reciprocated her quiet glances, and so it wouldn't be fair to him to take him up on this, to use him and hide behind him when she thought she might well break and run the moment things turned dicey, abandoning him to whatever sorry fate while she saved her own life.
"Thank you," she said, and meant it, but held up her left hand as she kept talking, keen enough to explain herself that she stumbled over her words. "I really, you see, it's... That means a lot to me but no. I think I want to, I just want to hide."
She'd planned to say that some other way, maybe "lay low" or "hole up" or "try stealth," but now she'd just gone and said it and laid on the table what a coward she was, so okay. She nibbled on the insides of her cheeks as she watched his face, thinking she should qualify her statement and make it sound less bad and then thinking that the smartest move when you realized you were digging yourself into a hole was to stop shoveling.
"That's too bad," said Grant, meaning it. Having Maribel onside would have been a big bonus. Strength in numbers and all that, right?
He stood for a moment, just looking at her. It really was too bad.
"I mean, finding a good place and sticking with it is a decent plan, I think I heard of people doing that in Program before," had he? He was sure he had, but honestly Grant had never paid that much attention to Program outside of it being a thing that existed and that would be bad to be involved in.
Just his luck.
"But hey, listen," Grant gestured over his shoulder with a thumb, back towards the previous corner. "I woke up in a spot which I think would work if you wanted to lay low. These docks or whatever they are feel like they're kind of out of the way, and the building I'm thinking is an out of the way of the out of the way."
Grant smiled again. "And maybe in a day or so you'll feel differently and I could come swing by and check in on you, or something like that. Sound good?"
He stood for a moment, just looking at her. It really was too bad.
"I mean, finding a good place and sticking with it is a decent plan, I think I heard of people doing that in Program before," had he? He was sure he had, but honestly Grant had never paid that much attention to Program outside of it being a thing that existed and that would be bad to be involved in.
Just his luck.
"But hey, listen," Grant gestured over his shoulder with a thumb, back towards the previous corner. "I woke up in a spot which I think would work if you wanted to lay low. These docks or whatever they are feel like they're kind of out of the way, and the building I'm thinking is an out of the way of the out of the way."
Grant smiled again. "And maybe in a day or so you'll feel differently and I could come swing by and check in on you, or something like that. Sound good?"
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MurderWeasel
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"I, Maribel started, but then she stopped. Grant was being so kind, so helpful, and it made her almost want to backpedal and say that yes, she would actually come with him after all, she would do all those things for him, watch his back and keep him safe. She wanted desperately to mean it, or at least to think that in a day or two if he was still alive and had something real going, some plan that actually had a chance at working, he would come back and she'd feel alright to join then. Even as those thoughts crossed her mind, though, she hated them for their base pragmatism. She couldn't fathom joining Grant for anything but her own good, couldn't conceive of reconsidering due to some moral awakening but would do so in a heartbeat if it looked like it might get her out of trouble.
"I'd like that a lot," she said, forcing herself to complete the sentence. She wasn't taking advantage, she told herself. This wouldn't hurt Grant. His secret spot would still be there for him too; no, she'd even leave, maybe, go somewhere nearby but with a view of the place so she could see if he came back but also be out of the way so if he came back alone and needed a place to be he could have it. That was better tactics anyways.
"We, I mean, I think I'm probably just going to stay hiding, though," Maribel clarified. Then, because she couldn't help herself, she added, "I mean, you never know. If you, if you want to check in, I'd like that too."
She paused, looked at her feet. Her shoes were so clean and white they looked wrong here.
"But only if it won't be a risk to you," she continued, hating how what she'd meant as a release from obligation sounded to her ears like a whiny guilt trip.
"I'd like that a lot," she said, forcing herself to complete the sentence. She wasn't taking advantage, she told herself. This wouldn't hurt Grant. His secret spot would still be there for him too; no, she'd even leave, maybe, go somewhere nearby but with a view of the place so she could see if he came back but also be out of the way so if he came back alone and needed a place to be he could have it. That was better tactics anyways.
"We, I mean, I think I'm probably just going to stay hiding, though," Maribel clarified. Then, because she couldn't help herself, she added, "I mean, you never know. If you, if you want to check in, I'd like that too."
She paused, looked at her feet. Her shoes were so clean and white they looked wrong here.
"But only if it won't be a risk to you," she continued, hating how what she'd meant as a release from obligation sounded to her ears like a whiny guilt trip.
Grant smiled. This was a pretty fair enough idea, and Maribel was at least being cooperative with this side of things.
It really was too bad, though. Putting people together, in his opinion, was a good route towards making sure you didn't die. A certain amount of trust came into the picture too, but there were ways to make that less of a risk—not just being blind in who you trusted, for one—and really extra eyes and extra weapons, extra everything, that was worth taking a gamble or two, if you weren't dumb about it.
Grant liked to think he wasn't dumb.
"Hey don't sweat it. Not like much of anything could make being here more of a risk, right?" he jerked his head towards the place and set off around the corner. "C'mon, I'll show you the spot and you can decide if it works for you."
It really was too bad, though. Putting people together, in his opinion, was a good route towards making sure you didn't die. A certain amount of trust came into the picture too, but there were ways to make that less of a risk—not just being blind in who you trusted, for one—and really extra eyes and extra weapons, extra everything, that was worth taking a gamble or two, if you weren't dumb about it.
Grant liked to think he wasn't dumb.
"Hey don't sweat it. Not like much of anything could make being here more of a risk, right?" he jerked his head towards the place and set off around the corner. "C'mon, I'll show you the spot and you can decide if it works for you."
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MurderWeasel
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"Yeah," Maribel said, "yeah. I guess you're right. I guess this, this is about as risky as it gets."
She laughed then, an ugly yet genuine laugh, but thought to herself that Grant was special to be able to get away with that. Gallows humor had never been her thing, even when she wasn't as close to literally being in the noose as she would likely ever come in her life. The boy who she was now following around the corner, though, could make a simple yet horrible observation into something approaching comforting, and once again Maribel experienced a brief moment of doubt.
If she was going to die anyways, why not seize what scant comfort could be found? Why not laugh once or twice more? But no, no, she had thought this through already. It wouldn't be right, wouldn't be fair, and horrible as it was, she didn't want to die. She would gladly sacrifice solace for even a small improvement to her odds. She just had to make sure to avoid the temptation to sacrifice herself on that same altar.
This really did seem to be a good place to hide, at least. The old buildings were looming, uninviting, with dark corners and little niches, places she could imagine would take the most dedicated searcher days to thoroughly catalogue. If Grant was leading her past these, he must have a truly good location in mind.
She laughed then, an ugly yet genuine laugh, but thought to herself that Grant was special to be able to get away with that. Gallows humor had never been her thing, even when she wasn't as close to literally being in the noose as she would likely ever come in her life. The boy who she was now following around the corner, though, could make a simple yet horrible observation into something approaching comforting, and once again Maribel experienced a brief moment of doubt.
If she was going to die anyways, why not seize what scant comfort could be found? Why not laugh once or twice more? But no, no, she had thought this through already. It wouldn't be right, wouldn't be fair, and horrible as it was, she didn't want to die. She would gladly sacrifice solace for even a small improvement to her odds. She just had to make sure to avoid the temptation to sacrifice herself on that same altar.
This really did seem to be a good place to hide, at least. The old buildings were looming, uninviting, with dark corners and little niches, places she could imagine would take the most dedicated searcher days to thoroughly catalogue. If Grant was leading her past these, he must have a truly good location in mind.
She seemed calmer now, which was something. Not quite of a something enough to change her mind apparently but hey-oh, couldn't win them all. Grant kind of prided himself on being able to get a smile or a laugh out of other people. Felt good to know that being a freshly minted resident of Murderville hadn't put too much of a crimp in that.
He turned, walking backwards for a few steps.
"It's just over here. I'm not really sure what kind of building it was, but seemed sturdy and warm enough, and it's out of the way," he cast a general arm around the place. "Feels like a bit of a maze, but I'm pretty sure there's a back entrance for if someone unwelcome came along."
He turned, walking backwards for a few steps.
"It's just over here. I'm not really sure what kind of building it was, but seemed sturdy and warm enough, and it's out of the way," he cast a general arm around the place. "Feels like a bit of a maze, but I'm pretty sure there's a back entrance for if someone unwelcome came along."
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MurderWeasel
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"Alright," Maribel said, following behind Grant. "Thank you."
He made everything look so cool and effortless, even walking backwards. Maribel could probably do it no sweat, but she'd be looking over her shoulder the whole time. She didn't trust that things would work out the way Grant appeared to.
Sturdy, warm, out of the way. That all sounded good. Maze, well, normally that wouldn't be such a good thing, but normally wasn't The Program. Anywhere with twists and turns dip out and lose an attacker would be perfect.
Maribel really felt pretty lucky that Grant was the first person she'd run into. The guilt was still there, that she couldn't do something for him in return. She looked around, her gaze following the movements of the boy's arm, taking in their surroundings. She could see what he meant. It would be hard to be found here, unless you wanted to. Maybe even then.
He made everything look so cool and effortless, even walking backwards. Maribel could probably do it no sweat, but she'd be looking over her shoulder the whole time. She didn't trust that things would work out the way Grant appeared to.
Sturdy, warm, out of the way. That all sounded good. Maze, well, normally that wouldn't be such a good thing, but normally wasn't The Program. Anywhere with twists and turns dip out and lose an attacker would be perfect.
Maribel really felt pretty lucky that Grant was the first person she'd run into. The guilt was still there, that she couldn't do something for him in return. She looked around, her gaze following the movements of the boy's arm, taking in their surroundings. She could see what he meant. It would be hard to be found here, unless you wanted to. Maybe even then.
"No sweat."
It wasn't. He didn't find the spot or anything, he just woke up there, and he wasn't planning to use it as a safehouse or hideout. Kind of in an inconvenient place to use as a base of operations, and not a great spot to collect allies either. Anyone coming out this way was either looking for someplace to hide or somebody to hunt.
Nah, Grant didn't need this spot.
They arrived at their destination and Grant opened the door, sweeping his arm inside with a broad grin.
"Welcome, sorry about the mess," he joked.
It wasn't. He didn't find the spot or anything, he just woke up there, and he wasn't planning to use it as a safehouse or hideout. Kind of in an inconvenient place to use as a base of operations, and not a great spot to collect allies either. Anyone coming out this way was either looking for someplace to hide or somebody to hunt.
Nah, Grant didn't need this spot.
They arrived at their destination and Grant opened the door, sweeping his arm inside with a broad grin.
"Welcome, sorry about the mess," he joked.
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MurderWeasel
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"It's lovely," Maribel said.
It wasn't. The building was a mess, cluttered with junk, old boxes and loose boards and a rickety staircase heading down into some sort of basement area. Everything looked just about ready to fall apart at the smallest tap, and it reminded her of an old story from her childhood, The Three Little Pigs. The Big Bad Wolf would be able to blow this house down no doubt, crushing Maribel in the rubble before pulling her from the wreckage to cook her up for dinner.
She'd just have to hope the isolation kept the wolves out there from realizing there was anybody home.
Already, her eyes were wandering through the space, looking at the myriad doors and tables and counters, trying to figure out what this building had even been and more than that what the best place would be for her to hunker down. Grant was almost forgotten, but Maribel still had enough about her in the way of manners to mumble a quick, "Thanks again."
It wasn't. The building was a mess, cluttered with junk, old boxes and loose boards and a rickety staircase heading down into some sort of basement area. Everything looked just about ready to fall apart at the smallest tap, and it reminded her of an old story from her childhood, The Three Little Pigs. The Big Bad Wolf would be able to blow this house down no doubt, crushing Maribel in the rubble before pulling her from the wreckage to cook her up for dinner.
She'd just have to hope the isolation kept the wolves out there from realizing there was anybody home.
Already, her eyes were wandering through the space, looking at the myriad doors and tables and counters, trying to figure out what this building had even been and more than that what the best place would be for her to hunker down. Grant was almost forgotten, but Maribel still had enough about her in the way of manners to mumble a quick, "Thanks again."
"It's not much, but it's home," Grant said flippantly, noting how Maribel was looking around, occupied by the idea of the building as a hiding place. If it was him, he'd probably be thinking basement. The stairs had a hatch over them, laying nonchalantly folded back on the floor behind.
That was fair.
Her back was to him.
"Mind your head."
He grabbed her shoulder and pulled Maribel around, letting go into a shove down the stairs.
That was fair.
Her back was to him.
"Mind your head."
He grabbed her shoulder and pulled Maribel around, letting go into a shove down the stairs.
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MurderWeasel
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Maribel didn't have time to scream. She didn't even have time to register what was happening until it had already occurred. One moment, she was taking a step closer to the stairs, to examine the lower regions of the building more thoroughly. The next, she was sprawling headlong down them. She threw her arms out in effort to abort her fall, but there was nothing but empty air to catch.
The rough, splintery wood bit at her. She banged against the steps, felt her side snag a step, felt her shirt tear at the back, a line of pain lancing through her below her shoulders. She came to rest with her left arm still extended, her hand and wrist slamming into the concrete with a crack and a snap.
The pain was indescribable. Her hand hung loose, limp, dead almost. Everything else was academic, though she was aware still of the ache in her sides, her shortness of breath, the drip of blood down her back from the burning line of a gash in her flesh. This was it. This was as bad as it got.
No. Not quite. Because, Maribel realized, as her mind finally caught up with her and she rolled over and shakily managed to find her feet, she hadn't just happened to hurtle into this basement.
She'd been pushed.
The rough, splintery wood bit at her. She banged against the steps, felt her side snag a step, felt her shirt tear at the back, a line of pain lancing through her below her shoulders. She came to rest with her left arm still extended, her hand and wrist slamming into the concrete with a crack and a snap.
The pain was indescribable. Her hand hung loose, limp, dead almost. Everything else was academic, though she was aware still of the ache in her sides, her shortness of breath, the drip of blood down her back from the burning line of a gash in her flesh. This was it. This was as bad as it got.
No. Not quite. Because, Maribel realized, as her mind finally caught up with her and she rolled over and shakily managed to find her feet, she hadn't just happened to hurtle into this basement.
She'd been pushed.
Grant watched her go, wincing in sympathy once or twice at particularly rough-looking collisions with the staircase. Thinking about it was one thing, seeing it in action was another. He didn't have anything against Maribel; would have been great if she'd agreed to come along.
Thems the breaks.
He took a moment, considering.
Probably best to make sure he was being thorough. No point doing things by half measures.
Grant trotted down the stairs. His smile was sympathetic.
Thems the breaks.
He took a moment, considering.
Probably best to make sure he was being thorough. No point doing things by half measures.
Grant trotted down the stairs. His smile was sympathetic.