((Karen Ruiz continued from Banhammer'd))
It had been an hour since the incident, but Karen was still a little shaken. It had been alright. She had been in danger, in real danger of dying, but she had made it through, only a little worse for the wear. Better than the other people, certainly.
It wasn't good enough. The trip from the beach to the plains had not been particularly difficult, but it had taken Karen quite a while. She was shaking at the start, still in shock after her conflict with the students from the other school. She should have known by now. Nothing was easy, and nobody was willing to go quietly to their deaths. It wasn't hard to understand. They were all scared, same as Karen. The only real difference was, they were less well armed and they lacked the dedication to do what was necessary, despite its unpleasant nature.
It didn't matter much. Right now, Karen just wanted a little time to rest and recuperate. She had done far more than she had originally planned, eliminated far more than the two opponents she had desired. It was time to reassess a little bit, to reconsider her strategy and her plans. She wanted to survive. Right now, she had a better chance than almost anyone. Not as great a chance as she could, perhaps. She'd made mistakes. She'd underestimated the emotional attachments of others, misjudged the choices they would make. Now, though, she just had to coast. She just had to protect herself, keep away from everyone else, and count on her reputation to keep them away from her. Nobody would come after her, not unless they were looking for revenge, and she could probably handle herself in that sort of situation. She had before, after all.
She moved, and she found a place to set up for the moment, to wait things out for a little. She needed to calm down before picking a final destination. Thus far, her travels had been confined to a very limited section of the island. She was strongly considering going elsewhere, somewhere secluded. She'd have to be fully aware to move on, though. Anything less was asking for trouble.
So she sat. The place she had found was similar to the one where she had fought the other girl, what now seemed like a long time ago. There was a table with attached benches, like a normal park would have, and a few trees for shade, at the top of a little hill. She was on one of the benches, knees to her chest, looking out over everything. Occasionally, she wiped a bit of sweat from her brow. All this time, and she was still wearing her clothes from home, still baking half the time.
All around, she could see rolling waves of grass. The wind rippled through it. It was interesting. It provided a fairly severe tactical challenge. Anyone approaching stealthily could keep low, and the movement of the grass would provide enough ambient motion to make them a lot harder to spot. Karen kept her Glock at hand. No point taking chances. No more mistakes or risks. She was going to make it through this. That meant extreme caution.
So she just sat on the bench, waiting. Maybe she'd go back to exploring later. Maybe not.
Last Page
-
MurderWeasel
- Posts: 3448
- Joined: Mon Aug 06, 2018 9:56 am
- Team Affiliation: Jewel's Leviathans
((Kathy Clements continued from Oranges and Lemons))
Tired. That word is beginning to encompass all of my existence up to this point. I want to sleep. But I'm afraid that if I sleep, I will never wake up again. After all, nowhere is safe.
Every second is precious and wasted all at once.
Tim, Renee, Peter, Lynn, Josh...
How many of those are still alive?
It was rhetorical. I really am tired. Sometimes I wonder where they are now, what they're doing. How they're feeling.
Mom, Dad, Abby, Cass...
I miss you.
Too tired. I'll stop writing for now. Some sleep would be nice...
The grass made her itch. She had to get somewhere safe, somewhere where she could just bunker down, get maybe an hour's rest before she started moving again. The grass didn't seem too safe. Someone could just trip over her.
Kathy scanned the horizon, her eyes uncooperatively taking in her surroundings.
Someone was over there, on a bench. Someone she could have sworn she knew. Had known. Maybe in another life.
She was moving through the grass before she knew it, her cane helping her along. An odd wave of emotion - happiness? Nostalgia? All was dulled through the screen of fatigue, but she felt it all the same.
Now Kathy was near enough to speak, near enough to tell that her tired eyes hadn't been fooling her. It was her, the girl she'd met all those days ago, in the parking lot. Someone she finally knew.
Her throat was dry, but she finally got the words out.
"Um... Do you mind if I sit down?"
Tired. That word is beginning to encompass all of my existence up to this point. I want to sleep. But I'm afraid that if I sleep, I will never wake up again. After all, nowhere is safe.
Every second is precious and wasted all at once.
Tim, Renee, Peter, Lynn, Josh...
How many of those are still alive?
It was rhetorical. I really am tired. Sometimes I wonder where they are now, what they're doing. How they're feeling.
Mom, Dad, Abby, Cass...
I miss you.
Too tired. I'll stop writing for now. Some sleep would be nice...
The grass made her itch. She had to get somewhere safe, somewhere where she could just bunker down, get maybe an hour's rest before she started moving again. The grass didn't seem too safe. Someone could just trip over her.
Kathy scanned the horizon, her eyes uncooperatively taking in her surroundings.
Someone was over there, on a bench. Someone she could have sworn she knew. Had known. Maybe in another life.
She was moving through the grass before she knew it, her cane helping her along. An odd wave of emotion - happiness? Nostalgia? All was dulled through the screen of fatigue, but she felt it all the same.
Now Kathy was near enough to speak, near enough to tell that her tired eyes hadn't been fooling her. It was her, the girl she'd met all those days ago, in the parking lot. Someone she finally knew.
Her throat was dry, but she finally got the words out.
"Um... Do you mind if I sit down?"
This signature intentionally left blank.
-
MurderWeasel
- Posts: 3448
- Joined: Mon Aug 06, 2018 9:56 am
- Team Affiliation: Jewel's Leviathans
Someone noticed her.
Someone talked to her, from fairly close by.
Karen didn't jump, just tensed a bit and made sure the gun was still in her hand. Paused. Replayed the words in her head, as she glanced at the other girl, assessing her. Short. Blond haired, blue eyed. White girl. Not carrying anything too notable or scary or dangerous, just a cane. Not one of those psychos who snuck up on people sometimes. Just kind of average. Karen liked average people better. They were the ones who seemed least dangerous. They were the ones who knew that sometimes you had to run instead of trying desperately to get revenge or another kill or some sort of twisted satisfaction out of someone.
But beyond all that by a couple of seconds, Karen realized, with mild shock, that she knew this girl: Kathy. Kathy, from back at school. Kathy, who Karen had been hoping would get killed by someone else in short enough order. Kathy, who Karen actually liked, who was one of the most dangerous people on the island because of that, because Karen didn't have it in her to do the smart thing, to raise her pistol and blow Kathy away. And Kathy was here, and was asking if Karen minded if she sat, and there wasn't a thing Karen could do about it.
So she just said, "No."
Looked like she had some company for the wait.
Someone talked to her, from fairly close by.
Karen didn't jump, just tensed a bit and made sure the gun was still in her hand. Paused. Replayed the words in her head, as she glanced at the other girl, assessing her. Short. Blond haired, blue eyed. White girl. Not carrying anything too notable or scary or dangerous, just a cane. Not one of those psychos who snuck up on people sometimes. Just kind of average. Karen liked average people better. They were the ones who seemed least dangerous. They were the ones who knew that sometimes you had to run instead of trying desperately to get revenge or another kill or some sort of twisted satisfaction out of someone.
But beyond all that by a couple of seconds, Karen realized, with mild shock, that she knew this girl: Kathy. Kathy, from back at school. Kathy, who Karen had been hoping would get killed by someone else in short enough order. Kathy, who Karen actually liked, who was one of the most dangerous people on the island because of that, because Karen didn't have it in her to do the smart thing, to raise her pistol and blow Kathy away. And Kathy was here, and was asking if Karen minded if she sat, and there wasn't a thing Karen could do about it.
So she just said, "No."
Looked like she had some company for the wait.
Kathy perched herself at the other end of the bench.
Quiet, except for the wind whistling as it ran through the grass. Better. Better than the sound of gunshots, three, one after another. Better than the sound of screaming, the sound of a knife impaling flesh.
Silence.
The other girl was just as Kathy had remembered her, when she had had cause to remember. Quiet, but friendly enough. Good enough for company for a long wait.
The notebook - she'd almost forgotten. She took it out of the daypack, weighed it in her hands for a moment. Then she flipped it open, shuffling through the entries she had made.
Blank page. Maybe she'd write a little more in it, write about this meeting. But no. Not now. Later. She had company.
Kathy set the opened notebook on her knees, looked at the other girl.
"...You liked books, didn't you?"
Quiet, except for the wind whistling as it ran through the grass. Better. Better than the sound of gunshots, three, one after another. Better than the sound of screaming, the sound of a knife impaling flesh.
Silence.
The other girl was just as Kathy had remembered her, when she had had cause to remember. Quiet, but friendly enough. Good enough for company for a long wait.
The notebook - she'd almost forgotten. She took it out of the daypack, weighed it in her hands for a moment. Then she flipped it open, shuffling through the entries she had made.
Blank page. Maybe she'd write a little more in it, write about this meeting. But no. Not now. Later. She had company.
Kathy set the opened notebook on her knees, looked at the other girl.
"...You liked books, didn't you?"
This signature intentionally left blank.
-
MurderWeasel
- Posts: 3448
- Joined: Mon Aug 06, 2018 9:56 am
- Team Affiliation: Jewel's Leviathans
Kathy sat down, taking the other end of the bench, leaving Karen enough space to feel comfortable. Good. She didn't need someone in her personal space, not now. She felt that she wouldn't be able to handle that after the events of the past couple days. It would be too much of a threat, too close for comfort. Karen did not want to be touched. She had enough bruises and aches that she was uncomfortable even fidgeting much. Any additional contact would have been difficult for Karen to tolerate, and she did not want to show any weakness, even in the face of someone who seemed friendly.
Fortunately, Kathy was also sitting on Karen's right side. That meant her left arm, with all of its colorful bandannas, was hidden from sight. It meant that, for the moment, Kathy might not realize the truth, might not be afraid of Karen. It was a strange thing. She'd spent so much time trying to be feared, and now she didn't want that at all. She realized that she had no idea what Kathy's team was. Quickly, she flicked her eyes over the girl. There, around her wrist: orange.
Vincent. That other girl. Orange Team was not good news. Why did Kathy have to have an orange bandanna?
Never mind. Kathy was flipping through her notebook. Wait. A notebook? They hadn't been left with any possessions. That meant that Kathy had spent her time on the island, at least in part, seeking out a notebook, or, if she had started somewhere with one, she had thought to pick one up and bring it along. That was a totally alien concept to Karen. It just reinforced her earlier impression: Kathy was a deep thinker.
And the silence stretched. Kathy didn't comment, didn't ask any of the probable inanities about Karen's time on the island. They might come later. Karen wouldn't even begrudge her the answers if they did. For now, though, she simply enjoyed the moment of peace. Karen liked the quiet. She appreciated that Kathy didn't feel the need to break it for something pointless.
Of course, it was broken eventually. Kathy asked if Karen had liked books. Past tense. It said all that had to be said. Their lives were past tense now, their hobbies and interests things they would never get a chance to enjoy again. Well, most of them. Six people would never do what they loved again, because Karen had been scared. She didn't know how she felt about that. A little scared, perhaps. But she wouldn't fall into thoughts of that sort, not here, not now, not in what was probably one of the last moments of calm in her time on the island. She wasn't leaving this place with Kathy, she knew that. There would be no team ups, no groups, no leaving herself to fall prey to emotional attachments. She would leave, and somebody would kill Kathy, and she would hear about it on the announcements and feel a flash of regret and a mountain of relief at another threat eliminated.
But for now, they were talking. For now, they were alright. Karen glanced around, making sure no one else was sneaking up on them, then said, "Yes. Did you ever finish yours?"
Fortunately, Kathy was also sitting on Karen's right side. That meant her left arm, with all of its colorful bandannas, was hidden from sight. It meant that, for the moment, Kathy might not realize the truth, might not be afraid of Karen. It was a strange thing. She'd spent so much time trying to be feared, and now she didn't want that at all. She realized that she had no idea what Kathy's team was. Quickly, she flicked her eyes over the girl. There, around her wrist: orange.
Vincent. That other girl. Orange Team was not good news. Why did Kathy have to have an orange bandanna?
Never mind. Kathy was flipping through her notebook. Wait. A notebook? They hadn't been left with any possessions. That meant that Kathy had spent her time on the island, at least in part, seeking out a notebook, or, if she had started somewhere with one, she had thought to pick one up and bring it along. That was a totally alien concept to Karen. It just reinforced her earlier impression: Kathy was a deep thinker.
And the silence stretched. Kathy didn't comment, didn't ask any of the probable inanities about Karen's time on the island. They might come later. Karen wouldn't even begrudge her the answers if they did. For now, though, she simply enjoyed the moment of peace. Karen liked the quiet. She appreciated that Kathy didn't feel the need to break it for something pointless.
Of course, it was broken eventually. Kathy asked if Karen had liked books. Past tense. It said all that had to be said. Their lives were past tense now, their hobbies and interests things they would never get a chance to enjoy again. Well, most of them. Six people would never do what they loved again, because Karen had been scared. She didn't know how she felt about that. A little scared, perhaps. But she wouldn't fall into thoughts of that sort, not here, not now, not in what was probably one of the last moments of calm in her time on the island. She wasn't leaving this place with Kathy, she knew that. There would be no team ups, no groups, no leaving herself to fall prey to emotional attachments. She would leave, and somebody would kill Kathy, and she would hear about it on the announcements and feel a flash of regret and a mountain of relief at another threat eliminated.
But for now, they were talking. For now, they were alright. Karen glanced around, making sure no one else was sneaking up on them, then said, "Yes. Did you ever finish yours?"
Kathy smiled, but only for a moment. A little smile. That's all it was.
"It was already finished. I went back over it, revised it a bit..." Bittersweet smile now. "I guess I'm writing a new book now."
Was this unnecessary? Would the other girl care?
"This story's about a girl. An ordinary girl." She was just telling a story, that's all it was. "She's just tired. Tired of running, and she can't go back home."
"It was an adventure, by any other name, but not by choice. She thought she was prepared, but she really wasn't, because all she ever knew was the everyday life of her little city." Her throat was dry - she hoped she wouldn't cry, hoped the other girl didn't notice that she might be about to. "A lot of stuff happens..." The words trailed off, whispering into nothingness.
Kathy blinked a few times, for good measure. "What do you think?"
"It was already finished. I went back over it, revised it a bit..." Bittersweet smile now. "I guess I'm writing a new book now."
Was this unnecessary? Would the other girl care?
"This story's about a girl. An ordinary girl." She was just telling a story, that's all it was. "She's just tired. Tired of running, and she can't go back home."
"It was an adventure, by any other name, but not by choice. She thought she was prepared, but she really wasn't, because all she ever knew was the everyday life of her little city." Her throat was dry - she hoped she wouldn't cry, hoped the other girl didn't notice that she might be about to. "A lot of stuff happens..." The words trailed off, whispering into nothingness.
Kathy blinked a few times, for good measure. "What do you think?"
This signature intentionally left blank.
-
MurderWeasel
- Posts: 3448
- Joined: Mon Aug 06, 2018 9:56 am
- Team Affiliation: Jewel's Leviathans
Karen considered, listened. At first, it was the same as always, feigning interest, falling into the routines of the real world. Kathy's words got through, though, actually penetrated the haze Karen had wrapped herself in. On a purely fictional level, of course, it was an interesting undertaking. There wasn't enough good fiction about ordinary people. It was all angst-fests or thinly-veiled political rants, or stories too wrapped up in their own status as fiction to ever be believable and relatable. For the most part, Karen disliked the realistic side of fiction and all its glumness. She read them sometimes, but they were nothing to Asimov or Heinlein.
But Kathy wasn't talking about fiction anymore, not exclusively, and they both knew it. She trailed off in the middle of her description, and Karen waited, and finally Kathy asked her opinion.
"It sounds interesting," she said. "Stories about real people are good, and it's always sad when somebody can't go home."
Then Karen blinked a couple of times, considered, and asked a question she probably shouldn't have.
"But how does it all end?"
But Kathy wasn't talking about fiction anymore, not exclusively, and they both knew it. She trailed off in the middle of her description, and Karen waited, and finally Kathy asked her opinion.
"It sounds interesting," she said. "Stories about real people are good, and it's always sad when somebody can't go home."
Then Karen blinked a couple of times, considered, and asked a question she probably shouldn't have.
"But how does it all end?"
The girl asked a question of her.
Kathy paused, thinking about the answer she would eventually have to give. It was a good question. A hard question. She didn't know how to answer it.
Shakespeare. She had read enough of it to remember a few things. Comedies end in weddings, tragedies end in death. Was this, not, then, a tragedy? It said right on the cover of her notebook - she didn't even have to turn it over. Clementine: A Tragedy. Would this not inevitably end in death? Someone's death? She had gone over this, and it was definite. People would die, people had already died.
She would die.
Could that ever be a happy ending?
And what of the girl next to her, and what of her fate? Kathy had a vague feeling she'd been asked something like this, long ago in the past - a day, a month, a year ago. Time didn't matter now, except the seconds that kept slipping past her in the darkening day.
So many questions. This time she didn't have an answer, though she felt it danced in front of her, eluding her feeble grasp.
"I don't know. I wish I knew," she finally said. "How do you think it will end?"
Kathy paused, thinking about the answer she would eventually have to give. It was a good question. A hard question. She didn't know how to answer it.
Shakespeare. She had read enough of it to remember a few things. Comedies end in weddings, tragedies end in death. Was this, not, then, a tragedy? It said right on the cover of her notebook - she didn't even have to turn it over. Clementine: A Tragedy. Would this not inevitably end in death? Someone's death? She had gone over this, and it was definite. People would die, people had already died.
She would die.
Could that ever be a happy ending?
And what of the girl next to her, and what of her fate? Kathy had a vague feeling she'd been asked something like this, long ago in the past - a day, a month, a year ago. Time didn't matter now, except the seconds that kept slipping past her in the darkening day.
So many questions. This time she didn't have an answer, though she felt it danced in front of her, eluding her feeble grasp.
"I don't know. I wish I knew," she finally said. "How do you think it will end?"
This signature intentionally left blank.
-
MurderWeasel
- Posts: 3448
- Joined: Mon Aug 06, 2018 9:56 am
- Team Affiliation: Jewel's Leviathans
Kathy didn't know. An honest answer, the only good sort at this point. Nobody knew. Karen sure couldn't say what her own fate would be. She could hope, she could act to make certain outcomes more probable, but she could never guarantee anything. The odds of her surviving were actually still pretty long, come to think of it. There were perhaps three dozen students left. Few of them came anywhere near Karen in terms of established threat, but that meant little in the long run. There was the dangling promise of freedom after ten kills, but that was still almost impossible. It didn't matter that Karen was over halfway there. It didn't matter that, statistically, she was probably almost the only person who stood a chance of making it out that way. Continuous conflict meant continuous risk of death.
And then, aside from her musings, there was Kathy's question. Karen took a few moments to glance around, being sure nobody else was in sight, before actually giving her answer thought. She didn't know what to say, not at first. She wanted something meaningful, something wise, but nothing was coming to mind. Finally, after the silence had dragged a little, she spoke.
"I don't know either. Every ending is happy for someone and sad for someone else. I guess the girl just has to be satisfied she did the best she could."
Open-ended enough. It wasn't like Karen could be a real help here. It wasn't like she knew the secrets to staying alive. She had guns and she had luck and she had a healthy dose of fear and self-preservation. Who knew what Kathy had? Well, besides a cane and a notebook.
And then, something clicked, something Karen should have asked sooner, something that was very, very important.
"Have you been alone this whole time?"
She didn't care about the direct answer, of course. What was important was that she find out if Kathy was alone now. She was on orange team. For all Karen knew, she was working with Vincent, was out scouting for a base. For all she knew, there was a whole group heading this way, ready to turn up at any second. Someone would have remembered who Karen was by now. Someone would be all set to put an end to her life. If Kathy was the harbinger of bad news, it would be time for Karen to get moving very, very soon.
And then, aside from her musings, there was Kathy's question. Karen took a few moments to glance around, being sure nobody else was in sight, before actually giving her answer thought. She didn't know what to say, not at first. She wanted something meaningful, something wise, but nothing was coming to mind. Finally, after the silence had dragged a little, she spoke.
"I don't know either. Every ending is happy for someone and sad for someone else. I guess the girl just has to be satisfied she did the best she could."
Open-ended enough. It wasn't like Karen could be a real help here. It wasn't like she knew the secrets to staying alive. She had guns and she had luck and she had a healthy dose of fear and self-preservation. Who knew what Kathy had? Well, besides a cane and a notebook.
And then, something clicked, something Karen should have asked sooner, something that was very, very important.
"Have you been alone this whole time?"
She didn't care about the direct answer, of course. What was important was that she find out if Kathy was alone now. She was on orange team. For all Karen knew, she was working with Vincent, was out scouting for a base. For all she knew, there was a whole group heading this way, ready to turn up at any second. Someone would have remembered who Karen was by now. Someone would be all set to put an end to her life. If Kathy was the harbinger of bad news, it would be time for Karen to get moving very, very soon.
She'd done the best she could, that's what the other girl said. Kathy didn't have the heart to dispute her. In some ways, she'd always felt helpless, unable to actually do anything as others died. Then another question. Questions everywhere, today. Kathy blinked in surprise.
"No." Kathy hesitated, then echoed her previous statement. "A lot of stuff has happened. But I'm alone now."
She thought of Tim, of Renée, of Peter, of Lynn. Thought of the Ski Resort. She thought of Josh, and the knife that was carefully wrapped up in the orange tank top she had found inside her daypack.
Most were painful memories. But she wouldn't and couldn't forget.
"I never did get your name," she said, half absent-mindedly.
"No." Kathy hesitated, then echoed her previous statement. "A lot of stuff has happened. But I'm alone now."
She thought of Tim, of Renée, of Peter, of Lynn. Thought of the Ski Resort. She thought of Josh, and the knife that was carefully wrapped up in the orange tank top she had found inside her daypack.
Most were painful memories. But she wouldn't and couldn't forget.
"I never did get your name," she said, half absent-mindedly.
This signature intentionally left blank.
-
MurderWeasel
- Posts: 3448
- Joined: Mon Aug 06, 2018 9:56 am
- Team Affiliation: Jewel's Leviathans
Karen froze at the blank statement and the vagueness that ensued, then relaxed a little when Kathy shared that she was alone now. This was all suboptimal, but it sounded like the situation was safe. She'd almost returned to her prior state of cautious half-relaxation, when Kathy sprung another unpleasant surprise on her. She asked her name. For a moment, Karen was tempted to lie, to feign deafness, to refuse to answer, but she couldn't. The only answer worth anything now was the truthful one. Besides, it was the right thing to do. It would scare Kathy, scare her senseless, send her fleeing. It would put to rest any sense of camaraderie. It would get her killed somewhere else, somewhere away from Karen. It would allow her to stick to the plan.
It was too bad it had to come to that, but she'd chosen her path a long time ago. Kathy wasn't the only one who had to do her best. So it only took her a second before she replied, turning to face Kathy.
"Karen," she said. "Ruiz."
It was too bad it had to come to that, but she'd chosen her path a long time ago. Kathy wasn't the only one who had to do her best. So it only took her a second before she replied, turning to face Kathy.
"Karen," she said. "Ruiz."
Karen Ruiz.
Kathy turned - and they were face to face. Her eyes met Karen's brown ones.
"You've killed, haven't you?" More of a statement than a question. She could feel her heart beating, a little faster now than it had been before. Fear, maybe, but she felt surprisingly calm, for once.
This was someone she knew. How ironic, that she felt that way when she had only met her once, in a parking lot, of all places. But she had known her before this had all happened. It counted for something, at least in her own mind. She was too close to her now; she'd never get away if Karen did decide to turn on her. Her daypack was on the ground, where she'd dropped it when she had sat down. It would take too long to get the knife, too long to unwrap it. And she didn't want to.
The situation was out of her hands.
A sorry excuse for optimism, but it was the best she had now.
"I'd ask why," she murmured, "but there's only one reason, and it doesn't matter, does it? We're all murderers, enablers, or the dead. Or we will be, in the end."
Kathy turned - and they were face to face. Her eyes met Karen's brown ones.
"You've killed, haven't you?" More of a statement than a question. She could feel her heart beating, a little faster now than it had been before. Fear, maybe, but she felt surprisingly calm, for once.
This was someone she knew. How ironic, that she felt that way when she had only met her once, in a parking lot, of all places. But she had known her before this had all happened. It counted for something, at least in her own mind. She was too close to her now; she'd never get away if Karen did decide to turn on her. Her daypack was on the ground, where she'd dropped it when she had sat down. It would take too long to get the knife, too long to unwrap it. And she didn't want to.
The situation was out of her hands.
A sorry excuse for optimism, but it was the best she had now.
"I'd ask why," she murmured, "but there's only one reason, and it doesn't matter, does it? We're all murderers, enablers, or the dead. Or we will be, in the end."
This signature intentionally left blank.
-
MurderWeasel
- Posts: 3448
- Joined: Mon Aug 06, 2018 9:56 am
- Team Affiliation: Jewel's Leviathans
Kathy didn't run. She just turned, locked eyes with Karen. Karen felt an insane urge to break eye contact, to look away in some semblance of shame. No. No, that was wrong. She wasn't ashamed of what she had done. She made no apologies. To feel shame would be to accept that she had done wrong. It would be to acknowledge that there was another way. There was no other way. There was no alternative means of survival. Kill or be killed, and the only reason Karen hadn't fallen into that second category so far was that she no longer appeared weak. She no longer appeared to be a victim. If she had tried anything else, if she had run and cried, if she had hidden, she would not have lasted beyond her first encounter. She would have been killed, by Vincent or by one of the people whose names she had forgotten or never even known.
Kathy's eyes were bright, more blue than green. Karen only realized this now. She didn't know how she felt about that. A little amazed, perhaps. She never looked people in the eyes, never really clung that well to the memories of appearances. It always took her a little while to figure out if someone she saw was someone she already knew or not.
And Kathy was talking. She was speaking, saying that Karen had killed, and yes, she had, more than Kathy even knew. She was saying that there was no need to ask why, that there was only one reason, and Karen could have laughed, could have actually laughed out loud if the situation were not so serious. It was such a naïve assumption, such an innocent thing to say. There were many reasons for killing, as many as there were killers, perhaps more. There was sadism and anger, there was vengeance and hatred. There were people out there, right now, who were carving other people up and enjoying every second of it, who never had to deal with shakes or nerves or the fear that their target would turn around and become the hunter.
There was only one reason for killing Karen could accept, though, only one she could feel alright about, and she liked to think it was Kathy's reason, too: to live. The reasons to live were as myriad as those to kill, but that didn't matter. All that was important was that one goal.
And Kathy said that there were no other options, no other choices. You were guilty, or you were dead, and it was true, so true. No one would leave this island with unstained hands. No one would escape the necessities of survival, not unless they relinquished their claim to it. So many words Kathy spoke, so much insight.
Only one possible answer:
"Yes."
Kathy's eyes were bright, more blue than green. Karen only realized this now. She didn't know how she felt about that. A little amazed, perhaps. She never looked people in the eyes, never really clung that well to the memories of appearances. It always took her a little while to figure out if someone she saw was someone she already knew or not.
And Kathy was talking. She was speaking, saying that Karen had killed, and yes, she had, more than Kathy even knew. She was saying that there was no need to ask why, that there was only one reason, and Karen could have laughed, could have actually laughed out loud if the situation were not so serious. It was such a naïve assumption, such an innocent thing to say. There were many reasons for killing, as many as there were killers, perhaps more. There was sadism and anger, there was vengeance and hatred. There were people out there, right now, who were carving other people up and enjoying every second of it, who never had to deal with shakes or nerves or the fear that their target would turn around and become the hunter.
There was only one reason for killing Karen could accept, though, only one she could feel alright about, and she liked to think it was Kathy's reason, too: to live. The reasons to live were as myriad as those to kill, but that didn't matter. All that was important was that one goal.
And Kathy said that there were no other options, no other choices. You were guilty, or you were dead, and it was true, so true. No one would leave this island with unstained hands. No one would escape the necessities of survival, not unless they relinquished their claim to it. So many words Kathy spoke, so much insight.
Only one possible answer:
"Yes."
Karen agreed, and Kathy knew she understood.
But she just kept on talking. Didn't know why. Felt like she needed to explain something, to Karen, who probably already knew all about what it felt like to watch someone die. She just kept on talking.
"Sometimes it just happens. There was a boy, Josh Doyle. From some other school. He wanted to team up with me. I didn't look like much of a threat, he said. We were leaving, and he tripped. Tripped over a body, landed on his own knife. And he was just lying there, screaming..." She broke eye contact at last, looking away, speaking quickly as if that would make the memory easier to recount. It didn't. "He told me to pull the knife out, and I did. But there was some sort of button I pressed on accident, on the knife - blew part of him up."
And she lifted her hands off her notebook without even really thinking, looked at the stains on her palms where Josh's blood had been. She'd tried to scrub them off; it hadn't really worked.
"It just happens so quickly and all of a sudden, they're gone."
But she just kept on talking. Didn't know why. Felt like she needed to explain something, to Karen, who probably already knew all about what it felt like to watch someone die. She just kept on talking.
"Sometimes it just happens. There was a boy, Josh Doyle. From some other school. He wanted to team up with me. I didn't look like much of a threat, he said. We were leaving, and he tripped. Tripped over a body, landed on his own knife. And he was just lying there, screaming..." She broke eye contact at last, looking away, speaking quickly as if that would make the memory easier to recount. It didn't. "He told me to pull the knife out, and I did. But there was some sort of button I pressed on accident, on the knife - blew part of him up."
And she lifted her hands off her notebook without even really thinking, looked at the stains on her palms where Josh's blood had been. She'd tried to scrub them off; it hadn't really worked.
"It just happens so quickly and all of a sudden, they're gone."
This signature intentionally left blank.
-
MurderWeasel
- Posts: 3448
- Joined: Mon Aug 06, 2018 9:56 am
- Team Affiliation: Jewel's Leviathans
Kathy kept talking. She kept talking, explaining. She told what had happened, what she had seen, what had befallen her previous ally. And Karen listened, and on some level, it all made sense. It all fit together, and her breathing quickened. Everything fell into place, piece by piece.
Kathy was a killer too. She was hiding it, prettying it up, trying to couch it in terms of accidents, but it was all false. Orange Team. Karen knew the Orange Team, knew Vincent and that other girl. Kathy hadn't always been alone. That was the plan, then. Split up, rack up kills, get what gear was possible. The emotion, the conversation, Karen knew it hadn't been faked. Kathy had been interested, had been genuine, but the whole time, she hadn't been half as innocent as Karen had thought. She had been hiding her own past, perhaps trying to formulate a way of dealing with her own guilt. Perhaps she had been hoping to forget it for a time. Perhaps she had merely been formulating a plan of action to deal with a heavily-armed opponent of her own, one who still held some bothersome emotional resonance. It was a twisted situation, two acquaintances meeting once more, each unaware that the other has become a killer.
Because Kathy was definitely lying about her kill being accidental. It was a clumsy lie, a scared lie. Karen knew it was a lie from the second the other girl looked away, from the second she could no longer focus on those blue and green eyes. It was the sort of lie one would come up with when it was almost noon, when the announcements were coming and you realized that you were sitting across from someone you did not want to spring any surprises on. Perhaps that was why it was a panicked lie, an implausible one. People didn't fall on knives. They didn't explode from being stabbed. Death was easy. Karen understood that now. It was omnipresent. It was simple. But it was not random. Kathy had lied, and Kathy had ended a boy's life, and whatever was going on, whatever Kathy had been, she was a killer, and she was on Orange Team, and she was an asset to Vincent, and even if none of this had been planned, even if there was no trap, even if there was nothing more malicious than a desperate attempt to find someone to justify things, Kathy was someone who knew the right reason to fight, and she was an opponent.
Sudden, the word Kathy had chosen, it was the perfect word to describe it all.
The Glock had never left Karen's hand.
Kathy was looking at her palms, but Karen was still looking at her face as she snapped the pistol up and fired three shots from point blank range.
Kathy was a killer too. She was hiding it, prettying it up, trying to couch it in terms of accidents, but it was all false. Orange Team. Karen knew the Orange Team, knew Vincent and that other girl. Kathy hadn't always been alone. That was the plan, then. Split up, rack up kills, get what gear was possible. The emotion, the conversation, Karen knew it hadn't been faked. Kathy had been interested, had been genuine, but the whole time, she hadn't been half as innocent as Karen had thought. She had been hiding her own past, perhaps trying to formulate a way of dealing with her own guilt. Perhaps she had been hoping to forget it for a time. Perhaps she had merely been formulating a plan of action to deal with a heavily-armed opponent of her own, one who still held some bothersome emotional resonance. It was a twisted situation, two acquaintances meeting once more, each unaware that the other has become a killer.
Because Kathy was definitely lying about her kill being accidental. It was a clumsy lie, a scared lie. Karen knew it was a lie from the second the other girl looked away, from the second she could no longer focus on those blue and green eyes. It was the sort of lie one would come up with when it was almost noon, when the announcements were coming and you realized that you were sitting across from someone you did not want to spring any surprises on. Perhaps that was why it was a panicked lie, an implausible one. People didn't fall on knives. They didn't explode from being stabbed. Death was easy. Karen understood that now. It was omnipresent. It was simple. But it was not random. Kathy had lied, and Kathy had ended a boy's life, and whatever was going on, whatever Kathy had been, she was a killer, and she was on Orange Team, and she was an asset to Vincent, and even if none of this had been planned, even if there was no trap, even if there was nothing more malicious than a desperate attempt to find someone to justify things, Kathy was someone who knew the right reason to fight, and she was an opponent.
Sudden, the word Kathy had chosen, it was the perfect word to describe it all.
The Glock had never left Karen's hand.
Kathy was looking at her palms, but Karen was still looking at her face as she snapped the pistol up and fired three shots from point blank range.