As the speakers crackled off, the terrorist missive for the beginning of day ten having been delivered, the occupant of the small bedroom sat limply, staring at the floorboards. Head down, he studied his shoes. The Rockports were scuffed, dirty and were they not dark brown, they would have been visibly filthy. His shoulders slumped down, his posture was dreadful. His masseuse would have scolded him for sitting in such a way to encourage back trauma in his future.
His future.
For all of the planning for that specific thing, not a single bit of it was worth a good goddamn. She had probably figured in only a minuscule percentage of the futures that he had calculated or gone over in his head, but knowing that the number of futures that contained Madison Springer within them now counted at zero...
What future?
Connor Lorenzen lifted his eyes from the floor to the ceiling, shut them, and let his body fall softly back on the bed that he'd spent the night in.
"Shit," he exhaled.
Madison Springer — his girlfriend — was dead.
((Connor Lorenzen continued from The Day I Tried to Live))
Tears weren't his style and quite frankly, he wasn't sure that letting any loose would have done any good. Letting his guard down now, ten days into this hellish nightmare just seemed like a good recipe to end up getting shot, stabbed or smothered. After his initial inkling to try and form a group had blown up in his face thanks to unstable personalities, it had made the most sense to try and avoid anyone and everyone at all costs. Rescue would be coming, his father would do all that he could to make a deal, to buy an army to come and find him. He had been convinced of it; zero doubt in his mind. It was what he would have done had someone come after his own son. If you have considerable financial clout at your disposal, why not use it?
The rescue hadn't come.
Connor had still done well at avoidance; only Ivy, Ace and Wyatt had been people close to him that he'd come across and only for short periods of time. Each had seemed to have their own goals and those goals had frankly been incompatible with what Connor had been trying to do. Two of the three of them were now dead and at last count, it sounded like Ace had finally gone off the deep end. Spending enough time with Ivy could have driven the best of them crazy, but Connor knew deep down that it wasn't the proximity to his loathsome ex-girlfriend that had done it. Ivy was a lot of things, but she wasn't evil and she didn't deserve to die. All it took was pressure and time for any of them to snap, which was what the terrorists were counting on. Some people were already operating at a pressure point and it didn't take much to send them off. Others kept it together well enough until faced with unspeakable horrors that shattered their psyche.
To her credit, Connor was impressed with how well Faith had taken the awful things she had seen and experienced. After finding a small house on the outskirts of the village that wasn't completely overrun by vegetation, they barricaded the doors and windows as best they could. The two had settled down to sleep, hoping that silence and inaccessibility would be their best defence against the horrors that awaited them outside. Connor hadn't intended to pry, to go back over the terror that she had experienced, but one small conversation led to another and eventually all of the details had spilled out. His own experiences had been negligible compared to hers, but it allowed him a new respect for how she still managed to find a way to retain her sanity.
So many others had found that a losing proposition.
Which brought him back to Madison, the one person that for half of his time on the island, he had been actively hoping not to find, the other half searching desperately. Looking for answers, to understand what could have been within her that could have caused her to act with such depravity, what could have been the straw that broke the camel's back. Who had come at her, why had she taken things out on Nathan — there were so many questions that he would now never receive answers to.
She had said something to him, once. Madison had expected an answer from him.
That night in the car, she had not found the answer that she had been searching for. Whether he was incapable or unwilling, he had brushed her off and it had almost broken them.
Maybe it was karma at work, then. Neither of them would ever find the answers that they sought. Madison would never understand why he had done what he had done that night and why he was unable to say out loud what, after experiencing her own loss, he now understood truly and completely in his heart to be true.
"I love you too, Madison Springer," he whispered to the musty ceiling.
Maybe somehow, someway, she would hear. She would understand.
She would know.
Lord, he had been such a fool.
Do It, Try It
Day 10; open, PM before entry
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Frozen Smoke
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((Faith Clementine Marshal-Mackenzie continued from The Day I Tried to Live))
Faith didn't turn around as Connor's words were absorbed by the small room they'd shared for the night, keeping her face close to the barricade of garishly coloured boards, peering through the gaps and out into the rest of the overgrown village. It felt too private a moment to intrude on, and the grimace of pity and sympathy that stretched across her face would say just as much as any words she could piece together would. She couldn't help but bitterly recall Matthew's "sympathy" as she'd stood by Wyatt's body, and whilst the memory was blurry, the emotions attached to it were still razor sharp. It felt like a mistake that someone like Matthew, who had survived by leeching off people like her and Connor, was somehow still alive. Like the universe had just conveniently forgotten he existed.
A few moments passed, and she loosened her grip on the edge of the dresser she'd been leaning over, knuckles turning from white to red.
At least Madison had gone out on her own terms, and painlessly at that, not that Connor would want to hear it. Better that than whatever Blaise had done to Julien, better than what she'd done to Nathan, even. Assuming the prick on the other end of the loudspeaker was telling the truth, it'd have been over nearly instantly, just a quick pull of a trigger and then... It was all over. No more worrying about when someone was going to stick a knife in your gut, or leave you to bleed to death out of a bullet hole, just whatever came after this.
Faith's stomach churned as she realised what she was thinking about, her mind recoiling from the subject.
She pulled herself up onto the dresser, it creaking a little under her weight as she sat there, leaning her head back against the boards that covered the window as she stared into space and tried to find something else to occupy her mind. Her eyes traced the rays of sunlight that managed to creep in around her, dust dancing in the thin yellow beams, before leaving odd patterns on the unpainted wood that made up the walls of the cabin. She looked at the smashed picture frame they'd found, whatever photograph it had held long rendered a blue-black smudge by water damage, and tried to make out what had once been there. The holes in the ceiling, that had probably once lead to a nest for one of the islands animals, wondering what might still be up there.
Anything but looking at Connor.
Faith didn't turn around as Connor's words were absorbed by the small room they'd shared for the night, keeping her face close to the barricade of garishly coloured boards, peering through the gaps and out into the rest of the overgrown village. It felt too private a moment to intrude on, and the grimace of pity and sympathy that stretched across her face would say just as much as any words she could piece together would. She couldn't help but bitterly recall Matthew's "sympathy" as she'd stood by Wyatt's body, and whilst the memory was blurry, the emotions attached to it were still razor sharp. It felt like a mistake that someone like Matthew, who had survived by leeching off people like her and Connor, was somehow still alive. Like the universe had just conveniently forgotten he existed.
A few moments passed, and she loosened her grip on the edge of the dresser she'd been leaning over, knuckles turning from white to red.
At least Madison had gone out on her own terms, and painlessly at that, not that Connor would want to hear it. Better that than whatever Blaise had done to Julien, better than what she'd done to Nathan, even. Assuming the prick on the other end of the loudspeaker was telling the truth, it'd have been over nearly instantly, just a quick pull of a trigger and then... It was all over. No more worrying about when someone was going to stick a knife in your gut, or leave you to bleed to death out of a bullet hole, just whatever came after this.
Faith's stomach churned as she realised what she was thinking about, her mind recoiling from the subject.
She pulled herself up onto the dresser, it creaking a little under her weight as she sat there, leaning her head back against the boards that covered the window as she stared into space and tried to find something else to occupy her mind. Her eyes traced the rays of sunlight that managed to creep in around her, dust dancing in the thin yellow beams, before leaving odd patterns on the unpainted wood that made up the walls of the cabin. She looked at the smashed picture frame they'd found, whatever photograph it had held long rendered a blue-black smudge by water damage, and tried to make out what had once been there. The holes in the ceiling, that had probably once lead to a nest for one of the islands animals, wondering what might still be up there.
Anything but looking at Connor.
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Time passed.
How much, he wasn't sure; it could have been five minutes or it could have been an hour. At this rate, every moment was precious and a gift, but Connor burned through them as though they were a currency that he did not lack. Like most currency for his entire life, he was never found wanting. More appropriately, he never felt as though these were his last days — some fleeting moments, perhaps the gravity of the situation truly took hold, but there was never a moment in which Connor Lorenzen believed that he was going to die. Not when his teammates had died, nor when his friends had died.
Now, his girlfriend was dead. Somehow, in his mind's eye, he still saw a future beyond all of this. Rationally, there was nothing to be said for such optimism.
They could only hide for so long from the Erikas and the Blaises of the class. Justin and Michael and whomever else's names were continuously listed over the announcements of the dead as being at fault were the ones who were seeking out a future, doing what they deemed necessary to survive. Connor couldn't fault the overall methodology behind the decision. Survival was a base human instinct. Everyone wanted to survive, no one wanted to forfeit their own life. As he had grown up, survival was assumed, it was automatic.
But it wasn't enough.
Connor hadn't believed that floating through life without a purpose or a point was worth much of anything. So when his football talent had manifested itself and matched his natural love of the game, it was automatic for him — he would do more than just survive.
He would thrive.
So many of his classmates had made that error in judgement, that error in assumption. Survival, especially in this, of all circumstances, wasn't enough. Playing for the tie usually earned you a loss, it earned you disappointment, and it showed a lot about who people were. You had to play for the win.
Killing your fellow classmates, on the other hand... Connor wasn't entirely certain that was the path that constituted a win. Forfeiting your human decency and your sanity just in the hope of living one more day didn't seem like much of a bargain. On the contrary; it seemed like a deal with the devil, and it was a deal that he wasn't overly fond of even contemplating. Fortunately for him, Faith seemed to think likewise. So for now? It seemed like they were on the right track, even if every turn was filled with despair, devastation, and hopelessness.
At least their train was still chugging along.
The ride had to end eventually.
"Seems like leaving Forrest behind before she found Abe was a good call," he broke the silence, his voice soft yet strong. "Shame how that turned out for her."
Connor knew that Faith had heard his proclamation for Madison, his mournful words. There were no tears — perhaps there would be time for that later, but he needed to keep his head. Stay in the game. Analyze the situation and call a play.
"Y'all doin' okay?"
She wasn't, but it was a start. An opening, her answer would require explanation, no matter what it was. Hopefully, she was holding up as well as she seemed.
Connor never looked her way, eyes still fixated on the ground.
How much, he wasn't sure; it could have been five minutes or it could have been an hour. At this rate, every moment was precious and a gift, but Connor burned through them as though they were a currency that he did not lack. Like most currency for his entire life, he was never found wanting. More appropriately, he never felt as though these were his last days — some fleeting moments, perhaps the gravity of the situation truly took hold, but there was never a moment in which Connor Lorenzen believed that he was going to die. Not when his teammates had died, nor when his friends had died.
Now, his girlfriend was dead. Somehow, in his mind's eye, he still saw a future beyond all of this. Rationally, there was nothing to be said for such optimism.
They could only hide for so long from the Erikas and the Blaises of the class. Justin and Michael and whomever else's names were continuously listed over the announcements of the dead as being at fault were the ones who were seeking out a future, doing what they deemed necessary to survive. Connor couldn't fault the overall methodology behind the decision. Survival was a base human instinct. Everyone wanted to survive, no one wanted to forfeit their own life. As he had grown up, survival was assumed, it was automatic.
But it wasn't enough.
Connor hadn't believed that floating through life without a purpose or a point was worth much of anything. So when his football talent had manifested itself and matched his natural love of the game, it was automatic for him — he would do more than just survive.
He would thrive.
So many of his classmates had made that error in judgement, that error in assumption. Survival, especially in this, of all circumstances, wasn't enough. Playing for the tie usually earned you a loss, it earned you disappointment, and it showed a lot about who people were. You had to play for the win.
Killing your fellow classmates, on the other hand... Connor wasn't entirely certain that was the path that constituted a win. Forfeiting your human decency and your sanity just in the hope of living one more day didn't seem like much of a bargain. On the contrary; it seemed like a deal with the devil, and it was a deal that he wasn't overly fond of even contemplating. Fortunately for him, Faith seemed to think likewise. So for now? It seemed like they were on the right track, even if every turn was filled with despair, devastation, and hopelessness.
At least their train was still chugging along.
The ride had to end eventually.
"Seems like leaving Forrest behind before she found Abe was a good call," he broke the silence, his voice soft yet strong. "Shame how that turned out for her."
Connor knew that Faith had heard his proclamation for Madison, his mournful words. There were no tears — perhaps there would be time for that later, but he needed to keep his head. Stay in the game. Analyze the situation and call a play.
"Y'all doin' okay?"
She wasn't, but it was a start. An opening, her answer would require explanation, no matter what it was. Hopefully, she was holding up as well as she seemed.
Connor never looked her way, eyes still fixated on the ground.
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Frozen Smoke
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Faith nodded her head a little as she digested Connor's first statement. It was a callous observation, but that didn't make it any less true. Maybe if the two of them had stayed with the group, they'd have been able to do something, but to what end? It wasn't like you could actually find people by trying to look for them, she knew that from experience, so finally meeting up with Abe had to have been happenstance - Talking her out of looking for trouble wouldn't have done anything. No, it would have ended at best with either her or Connor having to take him down, and at worst they'd have been joining Forrest on the announcement. Connor had made the right call.
His next sentence was somehow more jarring though, jumping right into asking her if she was okay in the way he normally would, if they'd sat down at lunch together and he'd noticed something odd. The kind of thing she'd respond to with a half-hearted "Yeah", so that he wouldn't feel like she was forcing his problems onto him, before being followed up with a quick "You sure?" and an actual answer. It was too normal, too much like home.
Faith's brow furrowed a little, as that thought settled, it feeling incongruously familiar as she momentarily lost herself in the way things had been. The memory of the two of them talking, just a couple of days ago, surfaced in her mind. The two of them talking, as she'd tried not to think of the people they'd left behind, distracting herself from the natural beauty they'd now walled themselves out of.
"Y'know, you asked me the exact same thing a couple days ago." Faith remarked, dodging the question. She brought her thumb up to her mouth and chipped at the edge of her fingernail with her teeth.
His next sentence was somehow more jarring though, jumping right into asking her if she was okay in the way he normally would, if they'd sat down at lunch together and he'd noticed something odd. The kind of thing she'd respond to with a half-hearted "Yeah", so that he wouldn't feel like she was forcing his problems onto him, before being followed up with a quick "You sure?" and an actual answer. It was too normal, too much like home.
Faith's brow furrowed a little, as that thought settled, it feeling incongruously familiar as she momentarily lost herself in the way things had been. The memory of the two of them talking, just a couple of days ago, surfaced in her mind. The two of them talking, as she'd tried not to think of the people they'd left behind, distracting herself from the natural beauty they'd now walled themselves out of.
"Y'know, you asked me the exact same thing a couple days ago." Faith remarked, dodging the question. She brought her thumb up to her mouth and chipped at the edge of her fingernail with her teeth.
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The corner of Connor's lips curled up into a small smile. He had asked her that, hadn't he? There was so much that had gone on between the days, yet so little seemed to fill the time. Days ago felt like a thousand years had passed. At what point had his immediate sense of memory started to allow for gaps that large within it?
Connor was tired.
"So I did." The jig was up. "I suppose it's maybe my way of projecting. Ain't a soul still alive that's okay right about now, is there? Not here."
Hints of a smile were not a full smile, he relaxed his face into a neutral expression. While some people needed to worry themselves with the phenomena known as 'resting bitch-face', Connor had always looked serene, peaceful as he thought things through or allowed his mind to wander. Perhaps that was part of the reason that everyone thought him to be so effortless in his pursuits. Be it football, academics, or social settings, he had always worked incredibly hard at all of them. Yet as someone with their finger on the pulse of the school, Connor heard the rumblings. He knew that most of his classmates hated Wyatt, for instance. Madison's social standing cast a large shadow and he knew exactly how people thought about being caught in its wake. Things like Abel riffing on Jonah for his prom-posal and Marco Volker getting slapped at #Swiftball; Connor heard about them through the grapevine almost as soon as they happened. So when people said things about him, inevitably, he knew. It didn't happen all that often, but when it did, kids were vicious.
That Connor Lorenzen, he's just a spoiled rich kid.
Ugh, Connor, what a selfish ass, thinks he's a big-shot.
A quarterback who plays with heart? More like fart.
I bet his daddy paid for the prom king vote. He probably thought Ivy would put out if he paid her. She might have!
He heard all of it. Only whispers, things people said in passing, but he heard it all.
In the long haul though, what did it matter? People could say things and maybe even mean them, but they were just words. Small words from jealous or insecure people. Words bounced off you, or you took them in and used them as fuel. In high school, words didn't kill. Not unless you found yourself in extraordinary circumstances when the wrong words were said enough times to the wrong damaged soul.
Huh.
These were extraordinary circumstances, weren't they?
"I'm tryin' not to dwell on it. This — it's all horrible but it all kind of feels like it's happenin' to someone else." Like Madison. Poor, misunderstood Madison; all he needed to do was say the words, why couldn't he have just done that?
Maybe she wouldn't be dead. Maybe she wouldn't have murdered Nathan.
Or committed suicide.
Enough of that. Dismissing the thought, he picked his head up and turned to look at Faith.
"For now, it is. We're in the shit, ain't no doubt about that, but our names aren't being broadcast over the loudspeakers. I'd really like to keep it that way. I just," he paused.
For now.
"I'm not sure how and that problem's drivin' me crazy."
It was a half-truth that only scratched the surface of the maelstrom swirling beneath Connor's facade, but it would do.
Connor was tired.
"So I did." The jig was up. "I suppose it's maybe my way of projecting. Ain't a soul still alive that's okay right about now, is there? Not here."
Hints of a smile were not a full smile, he relaxed his face into a neutral expression. While some people needed to worry themselves with the phenomena known as 'resting bitch-face', Connor had always looked serene, peaceful as he thought things through or allowed his mind to wander. Perhaps that was part of the reason that everyone thought him to be so effortless in his pursuits. Be it football, academics, or social settings, he had always worked incredibly hard at all of them. Yet as someone with their finger on the pulse of the school, Connor heard the rumblings. He knew that most of his classmates hated Wyatt, for instance. Madison's social standing cast a large shadow and he knew exactly how people thought about being caught in its wake. Things like Abel riffing on Jonah for his prom-posal and Marco Volker getting slapped at #Swiftball; Connor heard about them through the grapevine almost as soon as they happened. So when people said things about him, inevitably, he knew. It didn't happen all that often, but when it did, kids were vicious.
That Connor Lorenzen, he's just a spoiled rich kid.
Ugh, Connor, what a selfish ass, thinks he's a big-shot.
A quarterback who plays with heart? More like fart.
I bet his daddy paid for the prom king vote. He probably thought Ivy would put out if he paid her. She might have!
He heard all of it. Only whispers, things people said in passing, but he heard it all.
In the long haul though, what did it matter? People could say things and maybe even mean them, but they were just words. Small words from jealous or insecure people. Words bounced off you, or you took them in and used them as fuel. In high school, words didn't kill. Not unless you found yourself in extraordinary circumstances when the wrong words were said enough times to the wrong damaged soul.
Huh.
These were extraordinary circumstances, weren't they?
"I'm tryin' not to dwell on it. This — it's all horrible but it all kind of feels like it's happenin' to someone else." Like Madison. Poor, misunderstood Madison; all he needed to do was say the words, why couldn't he have just done that?
Maybe she wouldn't be dead. Maybe she wouldn't have murdered Nathan.
Or committed suicide.
Enough of that. Dismissing the thought, he picked his head up and turned to look at Faith.
"For now, it is. We're in the shit, ain't no doubt about that, but our names aren't being broadcast over the loudspeakers. I'd really like to keep it that way. I just," he paused.
For now.
"I'm not sure how and that problem's drivin' me crazy."
It was a half-truth that only scratched the surface of the maelstrom swirling beneath Connor's facade, but it would do.
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Frozen Smoke
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Faith nodded for a few moments, trying to give Connor reassurance that she understood, but the motion felt more and more hollow as the thought resonated through her. She broke the brief spell of eye contact, as she realised that what he was trying to do wasn't just hard, it was impossible. One of them was going to die before this thing was over. And, even if what they'd said about needing to kill someone was a bluff, she doubted anyone was just going to lie down and let either of them win. So, both of their names would end up gracing Danya's lips, it was just a matter of time.
All of that felt like it was better unexplained though. It wouldn't be just risky to say, given she didn't know how Connor would react, it would be potentially dangerous. She could still remember Julien, and how quickly an few heated words had turned into a knife at her throat. Faith's eyes tracked across the room to the door, hopefully braced with a chair as if a good kick wouldn't shatter the rotting wood into a thousand pieces, crossing an arm over herself as she shifted uncomfortably on her makeshift stool.
She'd hoped that being barricaded inside would make her feel safer, and it had worked for a while. She'd slept almost comfortably for the first time on the island, slipping into a deep, dreamless void before bird-call had tugged her back to reality. Now though, she felt just as trapped by it as she did protected. All the outside threats disappearing just made the one remaining inside threat fall into focus. Not that Connor had done anything to earn the title of threat, but-
Faith closed her eyes for a moment, frustration welling inside of her as she tried to stamp down on that thought, but wasn't able to. She just wanted to ignore it, to not think that way, and just believe that they could be in this together. But how could she do that? She could still remember walking away from their other group.
That was the problem, wasn't it? This whole setup was designed to set a wedge between people, and then wait. The desire to live, above everything else, would get them to do the work actually pushing. That was why there'd been no escape attempt. Everyone was too busy trying to keep themselves alive, rather than taking the shot at getting more than one person out alive.
"Do you, like..."
Faith paused for a moment, mid-sentence, as weighed up what she was trying to say.
"Think that maybe... Getting out of here isn't that important?"
All of that felt like it was better unexplained though. It wouldn't be just risky to say, given she didn't know how Connor would react, it would be potentially dangerous. She could still remember Julien, and how quickly an few heated words had turned into a knife at her throat. Faith's eyes tracked across the room to the door, hopefully braced with a chair as if a good kick wouldn't shatter the rotting wood into a thousand pieces, crossing an arm over herself as she shifted uncomfortably on her makeshift stool.
She'd hoped that being barricaded inside would make her feel safer, and it had worked for a while. She'd slept almost comfortably for the first time on the island, slipping into a deep, dreamless void before bird-call had tugged her back to reality. Now though, she felt just as trapped by it as she did protected. All the outside threats disappearing just made the one remaining inside threat fall into focus. Not that Connor had done anything to earn the title of threat, but-
Faith closed her eyes for a moment, frustration welling inside of her as she tried to stamp down on that thought, but wasn't able to. She just wanted to ignore it, to not think that way, and just believe that they could be in this together. But how could she do that? She could still remember walking away from their other group.
That was the problem, wasn't it? This whole setup was designed to set a wedge between people, and then wait. The desire to live, above everything else, would get them to do the work actually pushing. That was why there'd been no escape attempt. Everyone was too busy trying to keep themselves alive, rather than taking the shot at getting more than one person out alive.
"Do you, like..."
Faith paused for a moment, mid-sentence, as weighed up what she was trying to say.
"Think that maybe... Getting out of here isn't that important?"
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Of all the things that Faith might have said in retort to his admission, that was perhaps the most surprising. Doing a quick double-take, Connor straightened up and turned his body so that he was facing Faith. Eyes narrowed, he looked at her in vaguely masked disbelief.
"Come again?"
What else could be more important than getting away? Life was not this, life was to be so many other things. Connor had worked so damn hard over the past few years for a life that was stretching further and further away from him; so far that he could barely see it. Yet still, ten days in, perhaps there was still the faintest array of hope that someone might come upon them, discover or rescue them. Every day they drew breath was still a chance — what Faith had said sounded a whole lot like the beginning of someone giving up.
Madison had given in and then given up. The thought sent a chill down his spine.
"What could be more important than getting away from here? It's that or the fat lady sings," his voice remained neutral but he injected some urgency into his tone, "and I ain't ready to hear any opera. Not today and certainly not tomorrow."
Connor was exhausted. Even though they had slept in real, honest-to-goodness beds, their supplies were running dangerously low. After ten days of meagre meals and scavenging what he could from where he could find it, there wasn't much left to be found. He knew the purpose of it. As people became more depleted and more deprived, they reverted back to baser instincts. Ordinarily friendly people would become snappy, even violent. At the best of times, that could be a dangerous situation. In Survival of the Fittest, it was just one way towards a bad ending.
If she were giving in, Faith could be more of a liability than anything for him. If she decided to go the route that Madison had and — he didn't need to remind himself of that, but if she wanted to go out in a blaze of glory, he planned to be nowhere close. At this rate, everyone was dangerous. People were desperate. There were few lines that desperate people wouldn't cross. Instinctively, Connor's shields went back up.
"I ain't dying here, Faith. I've — we've come too damn far now to think about anything else, you hear?"
"Come again?"
What else could be more important than getting away? Life was not this, life was to be so many other things. Connor had worked so damn hard over the past few years for a life that was stretching further and further away from him; so far that he could barely see it. Yet still, ten days in, perhaps there was still the faintest array of hope that someone might come upon them, discover or rescue them. Every day they drew breath was still a chance — what Faith had said sounded a whole lot like the beginning of someone giving up.
Madison had given in and then given up. The thought sent a chill down his spine.
"What could be more important than getting away from here? It's that or the fat lady sings," his voice remained neutral but he injected some urgency into his tone, "and I ain't ready to hear any opera. Not today and certainly not tomorrow."
Connor was exhausted. Even though they had slept in real, honest-to-goodness beds, their supplies were running dangerously low. After ten days of meagre meals and scavenging what he could from where he could find it, there wasn't much left to be found. He knew the purpose of it. As people became more depleted and more deprived, they reverted back to baser instincts. Ordinarily friendly people would become snappy, even violent. At the best of times, that could be a dangerous situation. In Survival of the Fittest, it was just one way towards a bad ending.
If she were giving in, Faith could be more of a liability than anything for him. If she decided to go the route that Madison had and — he didn't need to remind himself of that, but if she wanted to go out in a blaze of glory, he planned to be nowhere close. At this rate, everyone was dangerous. People were desperate. There were few lines that desperate people wouldn't cross. Instinctively, Connor's shields went back up.
"I ain't dying here, Faith. I've — we've come too damn far now to think about anything else, you hear?"
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Frozen Smoke
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Faith made a point of not looking away as Connor reacted, his body shifting just as much as his demeanour, as openness turned to denial. Part of her wanted to just sink into the floor and not have to hear what he was saying, but another part of herself was busy patting itself on the back for having predicted this, so she let it all wash over her.
It shouldn't have surprised her, really, that Connor couldn't see what she was getting at. That there was no "we" in winning. Not here, at least. Part of him even seemed to realise that, as he tripped over his own words whilst trying to talk about how far they'd come, all two and a bit days of it. Beyond that though, what hope did they have of winning, really? They were still practically unarmed, there was a reason people didn't go into wars with spears or the like these days, after all.
The thing they were doing right now wasn't going to lead to them winning, it was just going to lead to them getting to live for a few more days like this, before someone finally found them and put a few rounds through the wooden walls of their shelter. It wasn't how she wanted to die, just sitting and waiting for it, like she had no choice in the matter. There were still things worth fighting for. People who didn't deserve to get off the island.
"Okay." she answered, her voice hesitant but acquiescent.
Connor wouldn't get it. She still wanted to lay it all out, try and get him to understand where she was coming from, but the energy evaporated as quickly as the idea came. He had his plans set, and the fact that they lead nowhere didn't bother him, because it'd kept him alive for now. Left him the last of her friends alive, although she wasn't sure that label worked anymore. The Connor that sat in front of her now felt like a distant cousin, a relative she remembered a few hazy details about, but couldn't really claim to know. Too much had happened with them apart from one another in the game, those 7 days felt like they'd stretched and warped into 7 years.
He had shown her what to do when you felt like you were in the middle of a losing play though, she thought, as she leaned back on her makeshift seat and rested her head against the wall. The expression on her face was unreadable as she tried to stop herself from looking like there was any more she wanted to say, an emotionless line as she looked vaguely in Connor's direction.
A noise broke the silence, as well as Faith's expression, turning into one of concern and fear. It was indistinct, something brushing against grass, stones skittering across the mud, but it was coming from outside - And it sounded like motion.
"You hear that?" Faith asked, mouthing it more than saying it as she locked eyes with Connor again.
It shouldn't have surprised her, really, that Connor couldn't see what she was getting at. That there was no "we" in winning. Not here, at least. Part of him even seemed to realise that, as he tripped over his own words whilst trying to talk about how far they'd come, all two and a bit days of it. Beyond that though, what hope did they have of winning, really? They were still practically unarmed, there was a reason people didn't go into wars with spears or the like these days, after all.
The thing they were doing right now wasn't going to lead to them winning, it was just going to lead to them getting to live for a few more days like this, before someone finally found them and put a few rounds through the wooden walls of their shelter. It wasn't how she wanted to die, just sitting and waiting for it, like she had no choice in the matter. There were still things worth fighting for. People who didn't deserve to get off the island.
"Okay." she answered, her voice hesitant but acquiescent.
Connor wouldn't get it. She still wanted to lay it all out, try and get him to understand where she was coming from, but the energy evaporated as quickly as the idea came. He had his plans set, and the fact that they lead nowhere didn't bother him, because it'd kept him alive for now. Left him the last of her friends alive, although she wasn't sure that label worked anymore. The Connor that sat in front of her now felt like a distant cousin, a relative she remembered a few hazy details about, but couldn't really claim to know. Too much had happened with them apart from one another in the game, those 7 days felt like they'd stretched and warped into 7 years.
He had shown her what to do when you felt like you were in the middle of a losing play though, she thought, as she leaned back on her makeshift seat and rested her head against the wall. The expression on her face was unreadable as she tried to stop herself from looking like there was any more she wanted to say, an emotionless line as she looked vaguely in Connor's direction.
A noise broke the silence, as well as Faith's expression, turning into one of concern and fear. It was indistinct, something brushing against grass, stones skittering across the mud, but it was coming from outside - And it sounded like motion.
"You hear that?" Faith asked, mouthing it more than saying it as she locked eyes with Connor again.
Criticism or thoughts on my writing are welcome and appreciated - always looking to improve! Feel free to poke me on Discord or via PM.
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Super Weegee
- Posts: 224
- Joined: Fri Aug 17, 2018 6:14 pm
((Matthew Hunt continued from It's Just A Day))
"So the village should be straight ahead..." Matthew muttered to himself after he passed the infirmary, sniffling a little and rubbing his runny nose, "...okay..."
All he wanted to do after Justin killed Angie and Shauna was to hole up in one of the leadership houses and lie down for the day, but he knew that he can't. The gunshots are going to attract people from miles away and, considering that they're around three-fourths of the way through this sick game now, it's unlikely that the ones that come to investigate are going to be friendly. How many of his classmates have killed someone or are looking to kill someone at this point? Honestly, he lost track of the former.
It wouldn't be too much longer before he would have to murder someone, anyways.
After he left the area, he opted to take a mostly straight shot towards the eastern part of the village, not bothering to take the path. Even with the trees covering the sun and the wind cooling him off on occasion, it wasn't enough to convince Matthew to bear the heat and he decided to take it off and stuff it into his bag. It took a few more minutes before he finally reached the first building, which was in bad condition like some of the other places. Looking around, the other houses weren't much better, with nature having reclaimed the majority of them and wooden boards on the ground everywhere around him.
One of the houses close to him even had their windows boarded up, meaning that someone is probably holed up there, although it probably wouldn't help much if he decided to just barge through the rotting door. Before he resorted to that, though, he should probably see if anybody really is inside. If it's Justin or Erika, it's important that he gets the drop on them. Stealth is key here, especially with how much blood is on their hands. After checking to make sure his shotgun and rifle are loaded, he began to make his way towards the barricaded house.
"So the village should be straight ahead..." Matthew muttered to himself after he passed the infirmary, sniffling a little and rubbing his runny nose, "...okay..."
All he wanted to do after Justin killed Angie and Shauna was to hole up in one of the leadership houses and lie down for the day, but he knew that he can't. The gunshots are going to attract people from miles away and, considering that they're around three-fourths of the way through this sick game now, it's unlikely that the ones that come to investigate are going to be friendly. How many of his classmates have killed someone or are looking to kill someone at this point? Honestly, he lost track of the former.
It wouldn't be too much longer before he would have to murder someone, anyways.
After he left the area, he opted to take a mostly straight shot towards the eastern part of the village, not bothering to take the path. Even with the trees covering the sun and the wind cooling him off on occasion, it wasn't enough to convince Matthew to bear the heat and he decided to take it off and stuff it into his bag. It took a few more minutes before he finally reached the first building, which was in bad condition like some of the other places. Looking around, the other houses weren't much better, with nature having reclaimed the majority of them and wooden boards on the ground everywhere around him.
One of the houses close to him even had their windows boarded up, meaning that someone is probably holed up there, although it probably wouldn't help much if he decided to just barge through the rotting door. Before he resorted to that, though, he should probably see if anybody really is inside. If it's Justin or Erika, it's important that he gets the drop on them. Stealth is key here, especially with how much blood is on their hands. After checking to make sure his shotgun and rifle are loaded, he began to make his way towards the barricaded house.
V8 Relationships Thread
Brook Peterson
Lula Gray Any thoughts or criticisms on my writing are welcome and appreciated! Feel free to message me on Discord.
Brook Peterson
Lula Gray Any thoughts or criticisms on my writing are welcome and appreciated! Feel free to message me on Discord.
Okay — the universal saying for when things were absolutely, positively not okay. If there was one lesson that he'd learned while dating Madison Springer (and Ivy Langley for that matter), it was that when someone said that things are 'fine', or 'okay' and didn't qualify it, they usually meant the opposite. Connor opened his mouth to press the issue further, but was distracted by her second comment, his eyes widening as he concentrated on listening.
Faith was right; someone was approaching. The footfalls were heavy, cautious. Whomever was outside was almost certainly aware of their own presence within. The door, while locked — was rotten and barely functioned as much more than a gate. If someone wanted to get in, it wasn't going to take much.
Looking back at Faith, he hissed under his breath. "Someone's outside."
Slowly and purposefully leaning over, Connor picked his near-empty bag off the dusty floor of the house. All he had to defend himself with in any case was a multi-tool, the knife barely enough to wound a piece of fruit, let alone a full-blooded American teenager. Holding it in his hand, he extracted the knife tool out, hefting it in his hand. He felt ridiculous, which only gave him a temporary reprise from the fact that his heart was pounding in his chest so hard that he thought Faith might have been able to hear it. Taking a deep breath, Connor ran the numbers. There was a play to be made here; there was always a play.
Whomever it was outside, there were a few different ways this situation could go.
Were it Justin or Blaise, all bets were off. He barely remembered what Blaise looked like, and Justin was about as much of a nobody as could be to him. Every time his name came up, Connor thought about Jeff Greene; another deceased teammate. There was a vague picture of Justin in his head: unremarkable, overweight, someone that was only notable thanks to his name being repeated over and over. Were either of them outside, Connor knew that there would be no talking it out. It would be a battle, one which he wasn't entirely sure he was prepared to fight.
Erika would be another tense moment, but he knew that both he and Faith had small connections with Erika. Maybe that would give her pause. Perhaps it wouldn't. Connor knew that he couldn't count on it, but he didn't think Erika would shoot first upon seeing him.
Of course, that might have been everyone else's mistake.
Ace was still alive, though Ace had killed — whatever version of Ace walked through the door would be a very different person than the one he'd left with Ivy at the shoe tree. Connor would be happy to see his teammate. That happiness could also get him killed. He couldn't imagine anyone else coming through the door; most of the people still alive were a mish-mash of those who he knew at a distance and those that he'd made a point not to bother knowing. People whose faces he knew in passing, but no one that he'd sit down and have a conversation with. Wrenching himself from his thoughts for a moment, he looked at the ground.
Was this really where he was, now? Calculating the odds that someone he knew was going to murder him in the next twenty minutes?
Christ.
Looking back up at Faith, the colour had drained from his face. This was the time where he should have had something inspirational to say, a phrase or a motivating comment.
He had nothing.
Faith was right; someone was approaching. The footfalls were heavy, cautious. Whomever was outside was almost certainly aware of their own presence within. The door, while locked — was rotten and barely functioned as much more than a gate. If someone wanted to get in, it wasn't going to take much.
Looking back at Faith, he hissed under his breath. "Someone's outside."
Slowly and purposefully leaning over, Connor picked his near-empty bag off the dusty floor of the house. All he had to defend himself with in any case was a multi-tool, the knife barely enough to wound a piece of fruit, let alone a full-blooded American teenager. Holding it in his hand, he extracted the knife tool out, hefting it in his hand. He felt ridiculous, which only gave him a temporary reprise from the fact that his heart was pounding in his chest so hard that he thought Faith might have been able to hear it. Taking a deep breath, Connor ran the numbers. There was a play to be made here; there was always a play.
Whomever it was outside, there were a few different ways this situation could go.
Were it Justin or Blaise, all bets were off. He barely remembered what Blaise looked like, and Justin was about as much of a nobody as could be to him. Every time his name came up, Connor thought about Jeff Greene; another deceased teammate. There was a vague picture of Justin in his head: unremarkable, overweight, someone that was only notable thanks to his name being repeated over and over. Were either of them outside, Connor knew that there would be no talking it out. It would be a battle, one which he wasn't entirely sure he was prepared to fight.
Erika would be another tense moment, but he knew that both he and Faith had small connections with Erika. Maybe that would give her pause. Perhaps it wouldn't. Connor knew that he couldn't count on it, but he didn't think Erika would shoot first upon seeing him.
Of course, that might have been everyone else's mistake.
Ace was still alive, though Ace had killed — whatever version of Ace walked through the door would be a very different person than the one he'd left with Ivy at the shoe tree. Connor would be happy to see his teammate. That happiness could also get him killed. He couldn't imagine anyone else coming through the door; most of the people still alive were a mish-mash of those who he knew at a distance and those that he'd made a point not to bother knowing. People whose faces he knew in passing, but no one that he'd sit down and have a conversation with. Wrenching himself from his thoughts for a moment, he looked at the ground.
Was this really where he was, now? Calculating the odds that someone he knew was going to murder him in the next twenty minutes?
Christ.
Looking back up at Faith, the colour had drained from his face. This was the time where he should have had something inspirational to say, a phrase or a motivating comment.
He had nothing.
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Super Weegee
- Posts: 224
- Joined: Fri Aug 17, 2018 6:14 pm
Matthew heard movement in the house when he stopped in front of it. It was footsteps and it sounded frantic.
He, she, or they know he's here. The place would've been dead silent if they weren't aware of him.
Putting his finger on the trigger, he raised the shotgun and backed away, not willing to risk the chance of getting jumped himself.
After he gained some distance and didn't see any silhouettes, he turned around and ran away from the village.
((Matthew Hunt continued in Meet Me in the City))
He, she, or they know he's here. The place would've been dead silent if they weren't aware of him.
Putting his finger on the trigger, he raised the shotgun and backed away, not willing to risk the chance of getting jumped himself.
After he gained some distance and didn't see any silhouettes, he turned around and ran away from the village.
((Matthew Hunt continued in Meet Me in the City))
V8 Relationships Thread
Brook Peterson
Lula Gray Any thoughts or criticisms on my writing are welcome and appreciated! Feel free to message me on Discord.
Brook Peterson
Lula Gray Any thoughts or criticisms on my writing are welcome and appreciated! Feel free to message me on Discord.
Uncertainty wasn't something Connor Lorenzen usually had to deal with, but in this particular moment, he wasn't exactly enjoying the feeling. Not knowing whether or not someone who still had a semblance of sanity about them would come bursting through the door, or whether they were about to get a first-hand glimpse at how demented and twisted the last ten days had made some of their classmates was a roll of the dice of which he didn't exactly like his odds.
Keeping his finger to his mouth, he kept his eyes affixed to the front door. The sounds of movement were coming from outside, but for as long as he kept his eyes laser-focused, no one even tried it. That was both good and a little concerning. It meant that whomever was outside wasn't stupid and was thinking tactically, a near-necessity for survival right about now. Playing football, especially as a quarterback, so much of how the game was played for him wasn't just about throwing the ball, it was about calling the right play. Using tactics to his advantage, outthinking the opposition at every turn. In this particular situation, he supposed that things weren't entirely different — thinking tactically used the same parts of one's brain no matter if it were for work, play, or for war.
Connor wasn't certain what war felt like, but this certainly felt like it.
Waiting for what seemed like an eternity, the footsteps moved off. Neither Connor nor Faith said a word. Had the person outside been someone who was looking for a fight, it was probable they would have moved in and done something reprehensible, something that neither of the two would be able to counteract. Instead, they sat, still waiting and listening for any sound to indicate whether or not the threat had passed.
The thread would never pass.
Waiting until an agonizingly long amount of time had passed, Connor looked Faith in the eyes and gestured to the back door of the house.
"As much as this seems like a good place to sit, we need to get goin'."
The tone of his voice was back to having a certain level of bravado, his football captain mentality pressing the buttons to make it very clear that this was not a suggestion. While his tone sounded sure, his heart felt anything but. Collecting what little belongings he had outside of his pack, Connor waited and listened for another moment.
Silence.
All but for the pounding within his chest and the anxious hum within his head.
As the sky started to redden and turn back towards the darkness, Connor opened the door without incident and the two made their way out of the house and back towards the forest.
Leaving nothing behind, but silence.
((Connor Lorenzen continued in Meet Me in the City))
Keeping his finger to his mouth, he kept his eyes affixed to the front door. The sounds of movement were coming from outside, but for as long as he kept his eyes laser-focused, no one even tried it. That was both good and a little concerning. It meant that whomever was outside wasn't stupid and was thinking tactically, a near-necessity for survival right about now. Playing football, especially as a quarterback, so much of how the game was played for him wasn't just about throwing the ball, it was about calling the right play. Using tactics to his advantage, outthinking the opposition at every turn. In this particular situation, he supposed that things weren't entirely different — thinking tactically used the same parts of one's brain no matter if it were for work, play, or for war.
Connor wasn't certain what war felt like, but this certainly felt like it.
Waiting for what seemed like an eternity, the footsteps moved off. Neither Connor nor Faith said a word. Had the person outside been someone who was looking for a fight, it was probable they would have moved in and done something reprehensible, something that neither of the two would be able to counteract. Instead, they sat, still waiting and listening for any sound to indicate whether or not the threat had passed.
The thread would never pass.
Waiting until an agonizingly long amount of time had passed, Connor looked Faith in the eyes and gestured to the back door of the house.
"As much as this seems like a good place to sit, we need to get goin'."
The tone of his voice was back to having a certain level of bravado, his football captain mentality pressing the buttons to make it very clear that this was not a suggestion. While his tone sounded sure, his heart felt anything but. Collecting what little belongings he had outside of his pack, Connor waited and listened for another moment.
Silence.
All but for the pounding within his chest and the anxious hum within his head.
As the sky started to redden and turn back towards the darkness, Connor opened the door without incident and the two made their way out of the house and back towards the forest.
Leaving nothing behind, but silence.
((Connor Lorenzen continued in Meet Me in the City))
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Frozen Smoke
- Posts: 533
- Joined: Mon Aug 13, 2018 3:50 pm
- Location: Where I need to be
Faith's hands found their way to familiar positions on the pole of the scythe, but rather than using it as an impromptu walking stick, she instead held it out in front of her like a spear. She didn't really know how it was supposed to be used, but if she could keep whoever was prowling around, she was going to do her best to. The sounds from outside continued, keeping her focus sharp, even as every fibre in her shoulder burned with the effort of keeping the metal blade in position. Eventually, those sounds faded though, to be replaced with the sound of her heartbeat and Connor's deliberate, quiet breathing. The tip of the scythe dipped, scraping against the floorboards, before she finally put it down again.
The tense silence that reigned after that was just as unbearable as the conversation she'd been trying to avoid, as the two of them strained to sense anything that might indicate if the person they'd heard was still out there, every motion and sound they made attracting the instant but unmentioned attention of the other.
As the sky began to turn ruddy, and the window for them to find another place to stay before night set in once again began to close though, the two of them left. There was no mention of where they were headed from Connor, and Faith didn't ask, just scanning the horizon nervously as the dim light let long shadows crawl over the hills as they walked.
((Faith Clementine Marshal-Mackenzie continued Elsewhere))
The tense silence that reigned after that was just as unbearable as the conversation she'd been trying to avoid, as the two of them strained to sense anything that might indicate if the person they'd heard was still out there, every motion and sound they made attracting the instant but unmentioned attention of the other.
As the sky began to turn ruddy, and the window for them to find another place to stay before night set in once again began to close though, the two of them left. There was no mention of where they were headed from Connor, and Faith didn't ask, just scanning the horizon nervously as the dim light let long shadows crawl over the hills as they walked.
((Faith Clementine Marshal-Mackenzie continued Elsewhere))
Criticism or thoughts on my writing are welcome and appreciated - always looking to improve! Feel free to poke me on Discord or via PM.