Pale Rider

[Dogs231]

NOAH DAVIS: CONTINUED FROM "a mutual problem"

Noah sat on the rock, the same as he had done on the first night; in the end, he'd found himself right back where he'd started, at Sayuna's grave. Austin was close in tow; they hadn't strewn far from each other since they'd reunited. He'd explained it all as best he could, even as the recollection left him reeling. The memories were still fresh and painful in his mind.

The announcements had done little but make the wounds sting more; more of his friends were dead, and more of his friends were killers. He recalled memories of refuge, a silent place where he couldn't hear the storms above their heads, a quiet friend who liked to read, a girl with a shiny metal creature at her side, a club for insects.

Noah stared into the medication bottle and shook it idly in his hands; the power suppressants danced in the cage of orange plastic. Once, he'd thought of them as his only safety, the one source of control he had over his Gift; now, though, he wondered if they'd acted more as a prison.

His gaze shifted back to the compound; the smoke still billowed in the distance, and the ground nearby was still laden with shrapnel. A small blue light emanated from where the top floor had once been; when he squinted at it, he could see the sparks and flashes of electricity where August once stood.

Noah remembered a conversation he and August had a long time ago about the nature of their Gifts. He'd mentioned off-hand something about how he didn't like his power, didn't want his power. August had a more spiritual opinion on the matter; that Gifts were an extension of the soul, more malleable than they first appeared.

He didn't ever really get what he meant, not until now. He had always thought of it as a tool of destruction, useless for anything but killing. Now, though, Noah understood what August had tried to convey; it was his to define. Here and now, he realized, it could be a shield, a tool for protection, if only he would wield it.

He tossed the bottle back into the bag and turned to his companion; Austin was by the shrub, eyes shut, breaths slow but steady. Noah didn't break the silence; he let Austin rest and peace stand.

[almostinhuman]

((Austin Greene continued from a mutual problem))

Austin had insisted on coming here, but now that he was sitting in front of Sayuna's grave, he wished he hadn't.

He'd left Raymond's bag with Noah; he wasn't gonna need it for anything. He sat in front of the little grave Noah had dug, knees drawn to his chest while his chin rested atop them, feet partially buried in the sand. He was certain he looked pathetic, probably about as pathetic as he felt. He'd done nothing but sit and stare at the makeshift cross marking Sayuna's resting place. Noah had left him to it, perhaps out of some sense of letting Austin pay his respects, but Austin would kill for any excuse to tear himself away. As it was, he could do nothing but sit there, silently wishing Raymond had killed him and not her.

He couldn't even bring himself to speak to her, for who was there to actually hear him? It'd be for the vicarious entertainment of the animal-headed cunts who'd dumped them here and nothing more, and that's if they were actually listening. He wasn't giving them the satisfaction of any of it.

He wished he could burn the lot of them alive.

He shut his eyes. He didn't have it in him to cry anymore, much as he wanted to. Losing Sayuna and Jenelle in such rapid succession had hollowed him out, and August's later death had only deepened the void in his chest. He couldn't cry and he couldn't scream and he couldn't rage. He just wanted to sleep.

He fell sideways to the ground, still curled in a semi-fetal position. He'd passed out in front of her grave.

He wanted to stay with Noah, but found himself quietly drawn away.

((Austin Greene continued in call the police))

[carduinal-cyn]

((Raymond LaSalle continued from Red Right Hand.))

Far in the distance, a fat white blob was nearing his wit's end.

The night Sayuna had fallen into his clutches and melted beyond recognition, Raymond had barely slept a wink. The following morning, he'd found two others; he'd tried to explain everything, but of course the word of a "murderer" would always fall on deaf ears with these people. (Possibly literally. His ears were still ringing from that huge explosion.) He'd spent his time since the blast laying as low as he could, always planning, always thinking. The thoughts percolated. Every time he'd glimpsed another person in the distance, he was reminded of Sayuna and the taste of her lifeblood, and he melted away in disgust. He didn't sleep the second night either, for in his earlier haste he had left his daypack and clothes behind, and a layer of itchy sand seemed permanently fused to his bottom.

Dark circles had formed under Raymond's eyes, which now seemed to stare out of sunken-in pits. In the haze beyond he could see a makeshift cross poking out of the ground by a rocky outcrop. An improvised grave, no doubt. He felt a great pang of sorrow in his chest, and he wondered with all the bloodshed and destruction whether he'd somehow stumbled upon Sayuna's final resting place.

It'll have to do, Ray resolved, no matter who it belongs to.

But you don't deserve to pay your last respects, do you, whispered the voice of Raymond's self-consciousness. You killed her. Sayuna died because you couldn't control yourself—

Shut up, he hissed back. Stop thinking about that. She was a damn saint!

That was the closest you ever got to a woman.

The blob began to bubble and fizz as he approached the grave.

[Dogs231]

Noah sighed and looked up at the sky; it was a bright blue, with strands of white clouds. It was peaceful here, but he couldn't shake the immense solitude that crept in on him; he longed for the company of those he had lost. The presence of Austin was, at the moment, a cold comfort, only present on the surface level.

This day was less hot than the days that preceded it, and there was no wind; the air felt thick, and the smell of smoke contributed to the heavy atmosphere. Noah coughed, his throat dry from exertion and the arid weather. He reached for a water bottle, drew it from his bag, and took a sip.

Despite the calm, Noah felt a growing tension pulse through his body, a jittery, anxious feeling. A sense of foreboding took root inside him, though he couldn't quite place the cause. He resolved to try and ignore it; things would be okay, as okay as they could be, he told himself.

[carduinal-cyn]

Raymond stopped short at the sound of somebody coughing. Damn it! he thought. Can't even grieve in peace. Perhaps the one who coughed was the person who'd dug the grave to begin with. Perhaps they were a visitor, just like him. Perhaps the grave was here long before either of them happened upon this spot. Perhaps the entire area would be little more than a mass grave soon enough...

A ghoulish makeshift face, like molten candle-wax, formed itself out of the muck. He just needed one tiny glimpse of whoever-it-was, and he'd know whether or not they were trustworthy. A full body — or a full face, for that matter — wasn't worth the effort.

As soon as he caught sight of who it was, Raymond melted back down and hid his fluid form behind a rock.

Noah.

[Dogs231]

The scattered sound of footsteps sent Noah back into his alarm, anxiety growing in his chest, eyes scanning for danger. The shrub by the grave swayed in the whistling wind, and the breeze kicked up dust in the distance.

For a moment, Noah caught a glimpse of Raymond, or rather, what remained of the Raymond he knew. He saw a definite change in the boy he'd once called a friend; his eyes were vicious and probing as if searching for a way out of their cage.

Noah knew how greatly the game had changed their worlds, how close to the limits they'd reached; he could only muster a tired, weary sadness for the fact. At once, he could tell; the friend he knew was gone.

The words echoed in his ears; not his fault, she'd said. After that, he just looked down at the ground and, for a moment, said nothing. It took what felt like ages for him to speak.

"Raymond," he said, voice weary, "you know what this place is, right?"

[carduinal-cyn]

Crap! Ray thought. I've been spotted! And Noah Davis was the absolute worst person who could've caught sight of him, the way he slunk and slithered and couldn't sleep at night. He had the audacity to ask what the incredibly obvious grave site was? Ray had half a mind to set the record straight. Sayuna couldn't intervene now. He'd seen to that, alright. The walking reminder of all Ray's failures wouldn't be able to make a jackass out of him this time.

"It's someone's grave!" he exclaimed, a face and a pair of arms rising out of the muck. His voice was a little more jovial than he'd intended, and he wore an obviously forced smile. "Lot of people could be under that cross, Noah..."

But there was only one obvious suspect.

"And if it's her," Raymond hissed, "she wouldn't like it if you disrespected her, would she?"

Noah was making a mockery of Sayuna's death. He had to be, the way he looked at Ray with those accusatory eyes. "Not my fault," she'd said, and did her blockhead of a boyfriend bother to listen? Clearly not. He was keeping vigil, because that was obviously the most important thing to do when you were on some sick real-life Hunger Games. The stupid bastard valued his Lost Lenore more than his own life.

"She wouldn't want this for you."

[Dogs231]

Noah took a deep breath, then sighed. The cheery, sickly-sweet tone and plastic smile only grated on his numb nerves. Raymond asked pointless questions with obvious answers, barely worth stating out loud.

"It's Sayuna's grave, Ray," he said, staring up at the sky, "I had to dig it alone. It took me the whole first night."

Noah looked at the shell of his former friend and stared him dead in the eyes. He couldn't help but feel a bit hollow inside himself; there was a yawning pit in his heart, where most of his friends now lay.

"If you'd stayed, you could've helped," he mused, "and made sure she had a place to rest. She deserved that much."

He paused and stood up from the rock, then idly walked for a moment; the direction didn't matter, just the motion. His whole body still ached, from toe to tip.

"We only just arrived back here, actually," he said, shaking his head.

[carduinal-cyn]

"We," Raymond thought aloud, "what do you mean, 'we'...?"

How dare Noah condescend to him like this? Stay? Help? It was as though Noah was completely unaware of the look of distrust and contempt in his eyes, the way he'd stared when Ray could barely move the melted remains of his own body. And now he was spreading that distrust like a virus, to whatever partner he'd squirrelled away with him... No one would listen. Not here. Maybe not ever. He was an innocent man, and that God-forsaken owl...

The blob muscled past Noah and darted closer to the grave marker. If there was an accomplice, they wouldn't get far.

[Dogs231]

The words had slipped out almost unconsciously; Noah wasn't one to lie, even by omission. Immediately, though, he knew he'd made a mistake; Raymond's face shifted, and the facade was gone. Noah saw the unbridled panic in the boy's wild eyes and the hateful brimstone in his voice.

"Austin," he said, though uncertainty seemed to linger, "it's just the two of us. He wanted to pay his respects."

Noah looked at the unconscious boy sprawled out near the grave. Though he hated to admit it to himself, something told him that Raymond was a threat; he stepped slowly towards Austin, hoping not to draw aggression right away.

"I told him the truth, Raymond," he murmured, growing anxiety in his chest, "it was an accident."

[carduinal-cyn]

Austin?

Ray's best friend, Austin?

Noah had the audacity to involve Austin, who had to have been grieving Jenelle's death all this time, in this shit?

Austin Greene was sleeping there by the grave, no doubt cartwheeling through the minds of everyone in the area. It was only a matter of time before he probed Raymond, or Noah, or both, and felt the sorrow and the rage and the thinly veiled contempt swirling through both boys. Raymond loomed over Austin's form like a pale spectre. He felt pity run through his veins, mixed with the frustration of knowing Noah had lied and lied and lied. He had to have. There was simply no way around saying "he killed Sayuna". No doubt about it. Austin Greene was totally convinced of that.

Noah uttered one more falsehood, as if it would convince Ray of anything. Ray blocked the words out. He couldn't trust them. He couldn't trust that anyone in the class would understand his plight. All they'd heard was "just as ugly as it sounds" and "cannibalism".

Raymond let out a quiet, choked-up noise.

There's no salvaging this, Ray.

Everyone knows what you are.

Your friends are dead, and the ones that aren't don't trust you.

And Lily... forget about Lily. She heard it too.

Only one of them's gonna live. It sure as hell isn't you. Not with your reputation.

So if you're doomed to die alone...

Why not give these people what they want?

Raymond closed his eyes, his lower half re-forming so that he could briefly kneel over the body of Austin Greene. A moment of silence for the atrocities to come.

[Dogs231]

Noah took one cautious step, then another, as he moved towards the others; Raymond loomed over Austin, his shadow cast over the unconscious boy like an omen of death or a sign of the reaper.

A choked, rattling sound erupted from the mouth of his former friend in response to Noah's explanations; he knew the sound well. When Sayuna had met her end, Noah had made such a sound himself; it signaled that his words would fall on deaf ears.

When Raymond kneeled by Austin and closed his eyes, alarm bells rang in a part of Noah's mind; his posture was still unmistakably hostile, and he looked like he was preparing to strike.

The situation was clear now; if he wanted to protect Austin, the time was now or never. Noah picked up speed with each step as his cautious approach turned into a charge forward at the assailant.

[carduinal-cyn]

As soon as he'd opened his eyes again, Raymond sensed a flash of movement. Its source was obvious: clearly, Noah had cottoned on to what he was about to do. Sayuna's killer inwardly cursed his fate, for his gift was quick to act and slow to kill. There was no way he'd get Austin pliable enough in time. It would have to come from him, and him alone.

A creeping hand shot underneath the sleeping Austin's shirt, the fat pale arm stretching and deforming beyond its limits until there was no telltale indent in the fabric. Melting fingers slipped through microscopic cracks in the skin—

it's warm
it's warm
it's dry
it's not here
it's deeper
it's somewhere
it's a little farther
it's fleshy
it's not that
it's higher
it's hard
it's past that
it's here
it's beating

—closed around the hard, jumping lump of muscle, and squeezed as hard as they could.

[Dogs231]

Noah continued to run, to charge, as fast as he could. There was no room for words, only actions; that was the only way to keep Raymond from hurting more people. There were no illusions in his mind; there was no reasoning in the world that could sway his peer from this delusion.

He wondered if he would close the distance in time; Raymond's gift was slow to act, but a part of him felt that the boy had some scheme ready; someone that paranoid wouldn't leave himself open to attack. It didn't matter, he decided. The consequences of inaction were far too steep.

Noah braced himself, mentally and physically, as he raised his shoulder. The two collided, and he felt little resistance from the pliant form of his former friend. Raymond's clay-like structure folded on itself and toppled to the ground. The other boy fell, yet he stood; his might had won out.

He took one look across the two bodies on the ground. To his left, Raymond had fallen, jumbled and bruised. To his right was his friend, a crimson void in his chest, barely breathing. Noah turned towards Raymond, balled his hand into a fist, and raised it; two fingers extended towards the other boy's head.

[carduinal-cyn]

The beating heart was just in Raymond's grasp when a big heavy mass plowed into his torso, sending him reeling to the floor. His arm, still half-melted, failed to slip cunningly back through Austin's skin. A bloody hole gaped out of his old friend's chest. Too late to finish the job. If Austin regained consciousness, Ray was sure their former friendship would come crashing down to nothing. But that risk paled in comparison to the shock of impact. Forced onto his stomach, Ray struggled to pull himself back up with the one arm that wasn't half-melted.

He felt two fingers pointing at his temple.

Noah's Gift, he knew, was called "fingerguns" — a most unfortunate pun at the best of times, and nothing short of a lethal weapon now. Those two little fingers might as well have been the barrel of a revolver, ready to splatter Raymond's brains against the ground. The realization caused his flesh to quiver. He stared up at Noah with eyes like black pits, sunken into the face and framed by deep, wet eye-bags. His teeth were gritted tight together. His head was racing, get out of here get out get out get out—

The sides of Raymond's mouth drew themselves up into a ghastly smile that showed off his gums.

"That's right... I'm nothing but a killer to you."