They hadn't needed to travel very far to ensure that the remainder of the group didn't follow. That was just as well — he knew that above all else, the number of people that he'd discarded without a second thought while on the island was starting to grow, and Connor Lorenzen wasn't a stupid man. He knew that the more enemies one had, the worse off you'd be.
Particularly when all of his natural allies could no longer help.
All of his friends? Gone.
Whether he wanted to admit it or not, the truth was that Connor was on his own no matter what happened. There was no one left alive on the island who would be liable to give him the benefit of the doubt. Well — almost no one.
"Y'all okay?"
((Connor Lorenzen continued from Hell and You))
That Faith had followed wasn't exactly surprising — the group that he'd travelled with for the day wasn't filled with anyone that he was aware she held any warm and fuzzy feelings for, and as far as he was concerned, it was likely only a matter of time before any of them were hearing Christina, Amelia or Forrest's names over the loudspeakers. It made sense that the field — which had thinned dramatically — made up of those who floated under the radar. Big targets were never bound to last. He loved them, he missed them dearly, but Wyatt's propensity for saying what was on his mind and giving nary a single fuck about the consequences was always going to give him trouble in a game where the object was to kill everyone else. Bret would be collateral damage in that regard; he knew enough people who grouped the two of them in by proxy. Most of the athletes had their names spoken aloud already. People like Abel and Max, Jeff Greene, Beryl and even psychotic Quinn — all of them had been involved in athletics and at least somewhat in the school's collective consciousness.
Yet somehow, he still endured.
Turning away from his viewpoint across the lake on his former campsite, he glanced over at Faith. She too had been in the public spectrum. Student council Vice-president. At this point, he supposed that she was now their de facto President, considering what had happened to Nathan. At the thought, he shut his eyes for a moment. Madison's handiwork had been something that he'd been unable to shake from his mind. Over and over, he'd tried to forget what the boy's misshapen and destroyed face had looked like. Yet it still remained, as etched in his mind as the football team's playbook. He needed to understand what she'd been thinking, why she'd done what she had. But it was likely an answer that he'd never find.
Connor didn't know what kind of mindset that his girlfriend would be in if and when he found her — if he did — but there was every likelihood that she'd have changed, irrevocably altered by whatever experiences she'd gone through.
Fighting for her own life.
Taking one.
He genuinely couldn't fathom the mental gymnastics one would have to perform in order to justify that to themselves. Connor knew that he could deal with a lot — no one put more stress upon himself than he did, but living with a body on one's conscience? He wasn't sure how anyone could do that. Not Madison with her one, not Tirzah who'd murdered Wyatt, not Claudeson who'd killed Bret... or even Erika. Whom he'd made camp with. Who'd gone and killed a dozen more people. Fifteen? He'd lost count.
How could any of them live with themselves?
"This all still feels like somethin' out of a bad dream. A bad dream, and there ain't no way to wake up."
The sky was starting to brighten. The eighth day was upon them.
And on the eighth day, God destroyed us all and started again.
Connor hoped not.
The Day I Tried to Live
Day 8; privato
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Frozen Smoke
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((Faith Clementine Marshal-Mackenzie continued from Hell and You))
The problem with a question like "Y'all okay?" was that it sounded normal. The kind of thing that you'd respond to with a nod of the head, a smile, and a "Doing good" or "Not bad" at worst. It didn't feel right to respond to it with anything serious, so she just looked up and gave him a small smile of recognition, before lowering her head and attention back to what she was working on.
The bandages that they'd been given weren't exactly the best quality, with coarse, thick threads that you could see with the naked eye. Whilst that would be the kind of thing Faith would be cursing if it was pressed up against an open wound, it was something that she was glad for now, as she pulled the fabric apart with the tweezers that had been packed alongside it in the kit. There was a satisfaction that came as the twine she was making out of it accumulated by her side as the strands connected, falling off to the side of the awkwardly hewn stump where she was perched, and trailing across and down the side of it. Soon enough, all she'd need would be a piece of metal to serve as a hook, and she'd have something that might work out as a fishing rod.
What Connor said after that couldn't be quite as easily absorbed, and after a moment to place a pair of frayed ends together, Faith looked up and listened as she rolled her thumb and her forefinger over each other.
"I think I get what you mean." she murmured in response "Everything feels like it's almost... Too real for me though. Things just happen to you, around you."
She paused for a moment to think, and to test the join of her cord, wrapping a coil of white material around her thumbs and pulling it taught a few times before letting it fall to her lap. The brief fall in her vision brought her eyes to the bag beside her, which she tapped with the heel of her foot to draw Connor's attention to.
"Like, this bag - It ain't mine. It was someone else's, and I took it from a corpse. Everything I started with was stolen from me by Sierra."
Faith's throat scratched with the memory of the desperate thirst as she remembered those days.
"Hell, the scythe - That's fucking Julien's. He held a knife to my throat. I- I thought he was going to kill me, then he decides to leave me that thing instead."
Faith let out a short, nervous laugh, as she reflected on that memory again. Tried to pin down exactly what emotion she'd felt as Julien had pulled the knife away from her throat. Relief? Shock? Happiness? None of those words felt right. She exhaled a little through her nose in frustration, and she looked off to the side for a moment, as her mind caught up with her mouth. She wasn't sure what she was trying to tell Connor, she was just talking.
"Sorry, I'm rambling." Faith apologised as she threw up her hands dismissively.
The problem with a question like "Y'all okay?" was that it sounded normal. The kind of thing that you'd respond to with a nod of the head, a smile, and a "Doing good" or "Not bad" at worst. It didn't feel right to respond to it with anything serious, so she just looked up and gave him a small smile of recognition, before lowering her head and attention back to what she was working on.
The bandages that they'd been given weren't exactly the best quality, with coarse, thick threads that you could see with the naked eye. Whilst that would be the kind of thing Faith would be cursing if it was pressed up against an open wound, it was something that she was glad for now, as she pulled the fabric apart with the tweezers that had been packed alongside it in the kit. There was a satisfaction that came as the twine she was making out of it accumulated by her side as the strands connected, falling off to the side of the awkwardly hewn stump where she was perched, and trailing across and down the side of it. Soon enough, all she'd need would be a piece of metal to serve as a hook, and she'd have something that might work out as a fishing rod.
What Connor said after that couldn't be quite as easily absorbed, and after a moment to place a pair of frayed ends together, Faith looked up and listened as she rolled her thumb and her forefinger over each other.
"I think I get what you mean." she murmured in response "Everything feels like it's almost... Too real for me though. Things just happen to you, around you."
She paused for a moment to think, and to test the join of her cord, wrapping a coil of white material around her thumbs and pulling it taught a few times before letting it fall to her lap. The brief fall in her vision brought her eyes to the bag beside her, which she tapped with the heel of her foot to draw Connor's attention to.
"Like, this bag - It ain't mine. It was someone else's, and I took it from a corpse. Everything I started with was stolen from me by Sierra."
Faith's throat scratched with the memory of the desperate thirst as she remembered those days.
"Hell, the scythe - That's fucking Julien's. He held a knife to my throat. I- I thought he was going to kill me, then he decides to leave me that thing instead."
Faith let out a short, nervous laugh, as she reflected on that memory again. Tried to pin down exactly what emotion she'd felt as Julien had pulled the knife away from her throat. Relief? Shock? Happiness? None of those words felt right. She exhaled a little through her nose in frustration, and she looked off to the side for a moment, as her mind caught up with her mouth. She wasn't sure what she was trying to tell Connor, she was just talking.
"Sorry, I'm rambling." Faith apologised as she threw up her hands dismissively.
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"Naw, ramble away. Only way we're gonna get through this is lettin' it all come out."
Connor dismissed Faith's apology with a handwave. The fact was that listening to her verbalize the horror of all of it was actually making him feel a little more settled within his own skin. While he hadn't obviously seen or encountered the deranged and murderous classmates like Faith had, Connor's own experiences had still left a mark upon him. It was intriguing the people that Faith had come upon. Julien and he had crossed paths — altogether briefly — and Sierra... well, he and Sierra were casual acquaintances, yet imagining her stealing all of Faith's things, it was not exactly unsurprising, given her occasional brusque nature. Even still, he remained surprised that people were capable of the things they'd shown over the past week.
"I think I feel you. Even as much as I've been tryin' to keep my own head down, it— ain't really anywhere to go, in the long run."
Pausing to consider how much information he really should volunteer, Connor straightened a little bit.
"Before I ran with Forrest and that gang, I was — well, I'd come across Nathan." He crawled over the words, trying to prevent the image from stirring in his memory. It failed. "As you might imagine, it threw me for a bit of a loop."
Losing his cool wasn't something that Connor Lorenzen took lightly, because it wasn't something that quite frankly ever happened. He was mentally strong like few of his classmates were; he knew that much on day one, and even now, he still held fast to that self-affirmation.
"Seein' him like that," swallowing the bile that stuck in his throat, Connor's grimace told as much as story as his words could, "was... I'm not sure anyone could be ready for that. The poor kid."
Trying to frown the memory away, the recollection of what came next more than did the job for him.
"While I was tryin' to sort through all of that, some crazy bitch — Val something-or-other, she pointed what I'd later figure was an empty gun at me and had me change a bandage for her." It had happened days ago, yet he was still sour about it. "It was pretty obvious that I ain't sittin' on the vengeance train. Kept tellin' her that there was no need for the gun — all she had to do was ask. That isn't the way of our world anymore, is it?"
Connor dismissed Faith's apology with a handwave. The fact was that listening to her verbalize the horror of all of it was actually making him feel a little more settled within his own skin. While he hadn't obviously seen or encountered the deranged and murderous classmates like Faith had, Connor's own experiences had still left a mark upon him. It was intriguing the people that Faith had come upon. Julien and he had crossed paths — altogether briefly — and Sierra... well, he and Sierra were casual acquaintances, yet imagining her stealing all of Faith's things, it was not exactly unsurprising, given her occasional brusque nature. Even still, he remained surprised that people were capable of the things they'd shown over the past week.
"I think I feel you. Even as much as I've been tryin' to keep my own head down, it— ain't really anywhere to go, in the long run."
Pausing to consider how much information he really should volunteer, Connor straightened a little bit.
"Before I ran with Forrest and that gang, I was — well, I'd come across Nathan." He crawled over the words, trying to prevent the image from stirring in his memory. It failed. "As you might imagine, it threw me for a bit of a loop."
Losing his cool wasn't something that Connor Lorenzen took lightly, because it wasn't something that quite frankly ever happened. He was mentally strong like few of his classmates were; he knew that much on day one, and even now, he still held fast to that self-affirmation.
"Seein' him like that," swallowing the bile that stuck in his throat, Connor's grimace told as much as story as his words could, "was... I'm not sure anyone could be ready for that. The poor kid."
Trying to frown the memory away, the recollection of what came next more than did the job for him.
"While I was tryin' to sort through all of that, some crazy bitch — Val something-or-other, she pointed what I'd later figure was an empty gun at me and had me change a bandage for her." It had happened days ago, yet he was still sour about it. "It was pretty obvious that I ain't sittin' on the vengeance train. Kept tellin' her that there was no need for the gun — all she had to do was ask. That isn't the way of our world anymore, is it?"
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Frozen Smoke
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Faith's head nodded up and down as he spoke, half just to signal she was paying attention, and half in understanding. It wasn't easy to scrub the sight of someone you knew dead and bloodied from the back of your eyelids. Connor seemed to be focusing on it too, she remembered him talking about it when they'd first met, about how Nathan's death had bothered him. Not that that was odd, it made sense to be drawn back to something like that, but it still made her wonder how well he was really taking it. Not that any amount of rationalisation could stop the realisation from fuelling the nervous feeling that burned in her gut, the feeling that told her that being alone with Connor was more dangerous than being in a group with him, that told her that he might be suffering more than he was letting on.
"It ain't, no." She agreed, as he threw the conversation back to her.
"We're in the world of might makes right, now, I guess." Faith added, sighing as she slumped back into a more relaxed position, holding part of her weight up with one arm on the edge of the tree stump.
"Kinda fucks us, huh?" She observed, with a small, sardonic smile gracing her lips. It wasn't like her scythe was going to do anything worth a damn to anyone with a gun, and she hadn't even seen whatever weapon Connor had been given.
"It ain't, no." She agreed, as he threw the conversation back to her.
"We're in the world of might makes right, now, I guess." Faith added, sighing as she slumped back into a more relaxed position, holding part of her weight up with one arm on the edge of the tree stump.
"Kinda fucks us, huh?" She observed, with a small, sardonic smile gracing her lips. It wasn't like her scythe was going to do anything worth a damn to anyone with a gun, and she hadn't even seen whatever weapon Connor had been given.
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His grim nod was all he truly needed to say on the matter, but he punctuated it with a few words anyway. "More than anyone probably figures." Connor sighed softly, as though admitting to the unsaid fact that in wartime, someone like him probably wasn't the number one draft pick that he'd always known himself to be.
Like it or not, this was a war. This wasn't a high school football team, it wasn't a student council election nor was it anything that either of them could have been ready for. Perhaps had they been born into less-fortunate circumstances, in a third-world country or a scarred home situation, they may have had a better shot. All of the things that made Connor Lorenzen prepared to succeed in almost every facet of his life back home were the same things that were accumulating to try and ensure that he wouldn't survive more than another few days.
"Y'all know, I might be a lot of things but," he trailed off, ending the sentence with a shake of his head. "Ain't no world where any of this seems natural to me."
All of it seemed insane, like it were out of some sort of crazy dream that one of them had been having. For days, Connor had been waiting to wake up, find himself back at home in Chattanooga, in his own bed, feet sliding onto the cool tile floor of his bedroom. That had been the dream. For a couple of days, he'd known that it was but a foregone conclusion that someone was coming to get him.
But that was all it had been; a dream. Everything that had happened just seemed vague, like it had happened to someone else. It was a movie that he'd seen many months ago, the details of which he just couldn't quite remember. He did recall one detail; something Faith had said that struck him strange. He believed it, but... still.
"So," he posited, choosing his words carefully and putting on a tone which only sought to confirm what he'd been told, "you said Sierra robbed you of all your things? What happened there? I knew her a bit, and she ain't the kind that," he changed direction, "I guess I'm just surprised."
He wanted to say something cheap; I didn't know she had it in her, but it would have been as hollow as he felt. Connor no longer knew what anyone had within them. His own girlfriend had murdered a special needs student who could have been a mirror for her own sister. His best friends had gotten themselves killed early.
Who did he really know anymore, outside of himself — and even more, was that enough?
Like it or not, this was a war. This wasn't a high school football team, it wasn't a student council election nor was it anything that either of them could have been ready for. Perhaps had they been born into less-fortunate circumstances, in a third-world country or a scarred home situation, they may have had a better shot. All of the things that made Connor Lorenzen prepared to succeed in almost every facet of his life back home were the same things that were accumulating to try and ensure that he wouldn't survive more than another few days.
"Y'all know, I might be a lot of things but," he trailed off, ending the sentence with a shake of his head. "Ain't no world where any of this seems natural to me."
All of it seemed insane, like it were out of some sort of crazy dream that one of them had been having. For days, Connor had been waiting to wake up, find himself back at home in Chattanooga, in his own bed, feet sliding onto the cool tile floor of his bedroom. That had been the dream. For a couple of days, he'd known that it was but a foregone conclusion that someone was coming to get him.
But that was all it had been; a dream. Everything that had happened just seemed vague, like it had happened to someone else. It was a movie that he'd seen many months ago, the details of which he just couldn't quite remember. He did recall one detail; something Faith had said that struck him strange. He believed it, but... still.
"So," he posited, choosing his words carefully and putting on a tone which only sought to confirm what he'd been told, "you said Sierra robbed you of all your things? What happened there? I knew her a bit, and she ain't the kind that," he changed direction, "I guess I'm just surprised."
He wanted to say something cheap; I didn't know she had it in her, but it would have been as hollow as he felt. Connor no longer knew what anyone had within them. His own girlfriend had murdered a special needs student who could have been a mirror for her own sister. His best friends had gotten themselves killed early.
Who did he really know anymore, outside of himself — and even more, was that enough?
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Frozen Smoke
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Faith's recollection of the event had been blurry at best, even when it had all just happened, and now it was buried under a week of other stressful events. It made her second guess the few nuances, flashes of detail she could grasp onto, wondering if they were really memories or just something she was creating to fill in the blanks. There just hadn't been the time to commit details to memory, how could she be so sure that Sierra's friend really had black hair, or what exactly they'd said?
"We'd always had... Issues, you know? School shit." Faith explained, waving one of her hands as if to dismiss the seriousness of their animosity. "But I thought the same as you, I guess. Didn't think us sniping at one another back home would be a reason for her to try and kill me here."
Faith couldn't help but snort with a little bit of laughter at her own statement as she broke eye contact with Connor. It wasn't truly funny, the realisation of just how far things had fallen since that first day, but it felt almost satirical as she heard herself say it.
"Not like anyone needs a reason to begin with, though." she murmured, grimly, before continuing.
"She was working with another person, don't know her name. Sierra distracted me, the other person came up behind me, I ended up managing to shoot her with this crappy little pistol they gave me - But that's about all I remember. Woke up with my hands and feet wrapped in tape and my supplies gone. Had to leave my clothes behind, too, as I couldn't get my hands free."
Faith turned her palms out towards Connor for a moment, as if to explain that she had nothing more to give him from that story.
"That's it, pretty much."
"We'd always had... Issues, you know? School shit." Faith explained, waving one of her hands as if to dismiss the seriousness of their animosity. "But I thought the same as you, I guess. Didn't think us sniping at one another back home would be a reason for her to try and kill me here."
Faith couldn't help but snort with a little bit of laughter at her own statement as she broke eye contact with Connor. It wasn't truly funny, the realisation of just how far things had fallen since that first day, but it felt almost satirical as she heard herself say it.
"Not like anyone needs a reason to begin with, though." she murmured, grimly, before continuing.
"She was working with another person, don't know her name. Sierra distracted me, the other person came up behind me, I ended up managing to shoot her with this crappy little pistol they gave me - But that's about all I remember. Woke up with my hands and feet wrapped in tape and my supplies gone. Had to leave my clothes behind, too, as I couldn't get my hands free."
Faith turned her palms out towards Connor for a moment, as if to explain that she had nothing more to give him from that story.
"That's it, pretty much."
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Shaking his head as he listened to the story, it sounded all so fantastical. It might have been the plot to some subpar Netflix miniseries, some British show that he'd turn on for background noise as he was studying plays or doing homework. It was a forgettable story, not remotely the kind of thing that Connor would really sink his teeth into. But here it was, in front of them.
This was their lives from here on out.
"It's... God, I'm sorry Faith. Surprise is the word of the day, but I ain't," he stopped to try and figure out what he could even do with the information. Connor was left with only a helpless shrug. "Guess it didn't take much to crack some folks, did it?"
The question was rhetorical. Some people's constitutions were made of clay; brittle and steady only from afar. When faced with the lightest of stress, some people would shatter under the pressure. For a long time, Connor had thought of himself as the kind of person who could weather any storm, fight through any kind of adversity.
He'd never imagined this, though.
Which left him with the question that he had to ask himself — if someone like Sierra, whom he'd gathered to be a bit more together than some, if she could shatter and snap like she obviously had, what kind of stuff was he made out of? Every decision that he'd made to this point had been in support of keeping his own head down, riding out the storm. When it became apparent that the cavalry was late, if not totally absent, he'd done all that he could to stay off of any train heading towards imminent destruction.
Did that mean that he'd been right about himself, or terribly wrong?
"You're made of strong stuff, Faith. Y'all have to know that. I'm glad you've managed to keep your head about you." Since fucking everyone else is losing their Goddamn minds was what he wanted to add, but he bit his lip to stop that from coming out. Ranting and raving wouldn't do him a lick of good, and he hadn't yet forgotten that the cameras were everywhere.
No matter what, someone was always watching.
This was their lives from here on out.
"It's... God, I'm sorry Faith. Surprise is the word of the day, but I ain't," he stopped to try and figure out what he could even do with the information. Connor was left with only a helpless shrug. "Guess it didn't take much to crack some folks, did it?"
The question was rhetorical. Some people's constitutions were made of clay; brittle and steady only from afar. When faced with the lightest of stress, some people would shatter under the pressure. For a long time, Connor had thought of himself as the kind of person who could weather any storm, fight through any kind of adversity.
He'd never imagined this, though.
Which left him with the question that he had to ask himself — if someone like Sierra, whom he'd gathered to be a bit more together than some, if she could shatter and snap like she obviously had, what kind of stuff was he made out of? Every decision that he'd made to this point had been in support of keeping his own head down, riding out the storm. When it became apparent that the cavalry was late, if not totally absent, he'd done all that he could to stay off of any train heading towards imminent destruction.
Did that mean that he'd been right about himself, or terribly wrong?
"You're made of strong stuff, Faith. Y'all have to know that. I'm glad you've managed to keep your head about you." Since fucking everyone else is losing their Goddamn minds was what he wanted to add, but he bit his lip to stop that from coming out. Ranting and raving wouldn't do him a lick of good, and he hadn't yet forgotten that the cameras were everywhere.
No matter what, someone was always watching.
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Frozen Smoke
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Faith offered Connor a reluctant smile as a response to the compliment, forcing it onto her lips for a moment, before looking down at her lap. A fortnight ago, she would have agreed, it would have felt so self-evident to her that she'd have wondered just what Connor was trying to butter her up for. Now it just sounded hollow to her, even with all the sincerity he put into his voice.
She certainly didn't feel strong. Strong people fought back, had a plan, did things to pull themselves out of shit. The fact that she'd managed to avoid getting herself killed, or having to kill someone else didn't make her strong, it just meant she'd managed to fluke her way through everything. A strong person wouldn't have left Dante behind, wouldn't have lost their cool at Matthew, and probably wouldn't have left Forrest either. Shit, if she was really a strong person, she'd have died tried fighting the terrorists rather than having to die fighting her friends.
But saying any of that wouldn't help anyone.
"I guess so." she mumbled apathetically, before looking up and jerking the conversation in another direction.
"You got any ideas on where we could head to? Staying out in the open doesn't seem like... The best idea."
She certainly didn't feel strong. Strong people fought back, had a plan, did things to pull themselves out of shit. The fact that she'd managed to avoid getting herself killed, or having to kill someone else didn't make her strong, it just meant she'd managed to fluke her way through everything. A strong person wouldn't have left Dante behind, wouldn't have lost their cool at Matthew, and probably wouldn't have left Forrest either. Shit, if she was really a strong person, she'd have died tried fighting the terrorists rather than having to die fighting her friends.
But saying any of that wouldn't help anyone.
"I guess so." she mumbled apathetically, before looking up and jerking the conversation in another direction.
"You got any ideas on where we could head to? Staying out in the open doesn't seem like... The best idea."
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Scratching the peach fuzz that had grown on his face after several days of traipsing around the island without even a thought for personal cleanliness or grooming, Connor gave the question a long thought. Having abandoned the others in favour of Faith, who was shaken but not broken, he felt that the two of them together stood a good chance of keeping as low a profile as humanly possible. "I ain't an expert, but I've come this far by keeping my head down and out of sight."
He didn't suppose he was an expert in staying alive. Connor knew himself to be only as good as the next person; pure survival wasn't something he'd been taught. Of course, that was from a purely banal perspective. All his life, he'd learned how to read people, how to act in various types of company, and how to set himself up for success. Right about now, that was all he could really think to do.
Set himself up for success.
In this particular instance, that meant avoiding anyone and everyone who might even entertain the thought of murdering him. For the time being, that list wasn't very long. The problem stretched even further; the list of people who did wasn't a very long list, either. Eight days into their own personal hell, Connor knew that the majority of his classmates were by now, likely dead.
"I reckon we stick to the woods, stick to the outdoors. Most people have to be thinkin' that any landmarks are good places to," he paused, only a little for effect, "hunt."
Reaching over, he rummaged through his pack briefly. It only took him a moment to find the map of the island, he scanned it over. At this point, the terrorists had begun to cordon off areas of the island to herd them all towards one another. Shaking his head, he clicked his tongue. It wasn't like him to freely admit that he didn't have a plan — most of the time, he did, but fatigue had started to do a number on his energy level. Even still, he spent some of that energy on appearing confident, even if he was just shooting into the dark.
"Nothin' jumps out, but in a pinch, maybe we could find some nondescript house in the village to hide in. Wherever folks ain't, that's where I want to be. As long as can see anyone comin', and have an exit, I'm all for it."
Football strategy. That was his game. Life or death decisions were slightly over his head. As tall as he may have been, in a game of immediate life or death, Connor felt miniscule. He'd thought that he wanted to find Madison, exact some sort of reasoning for why she'd done what she had to Nathan, but the very thought of coming across anyone who'd still been alive was cause for concern. Forrest, Christina and Amelia wouldn't likely be thrilled to see him. Ace was obviously becoming very unhinged; he'd killed someone — what that meant for Ivy was another story. If Connor came upon him, it was very possible that he wouldn't recognize his teammate at all.
As for Madison... well, he wanted to know, but he didn't want curiosity to kill the cat. She'd already proven that she was capable of much, much worse.
He didn't suppose he was an expert in staying alive. Connor knew himself to be only as good as the next person; pure survival wasn't something he'd been taught. Of course, that was from a purely banal perspective. All his life, he'd learned how to read people, how to act in various types of company, and how to set himself up for success. Right about now, that was all he could really think to do.
Set himself up for success.
In this particular instance, that meant avoiding anyone and everyone who might even entertain the thought of murdering him. For the time being, that list wasn't very long. The problem stretched even further; the list of people who did wasn't a very long list, either. Eight days into their own personal hell, Connor knew that the majority of his classmates were by now, likely dead.
"I reckon we stick to the woods, stick to the outdoors. Most people have to be thinkin' that any landmarks are good places to," he paused, only a little for effect, "hunt."
Reaching over, he rummaged through his pack briefly. It only took him a moment to find the map of the island, he scanned it over. At this point, the terrorists had begun to cordon off areas of the island to herd them all towards one another. Shaking his head, he clicked his tongue. It wasn't like him to freely admit that he didn't have a plan — most of the time, he did, but fatigue had started to do a number on his energy level. Even still, he spent some of that energy on appearing confident, even if he was just shooting into the dark.
"Nothin' jumps out, but in a pinch, maybe we could find some nondescript house in the village to hide in. Wherever folks ain't, that's where I want to be. As long as can see anyone comin', and have an exit, I'm all for it."
Football strategy. That was his game. Life or death decisions were slightly over his head. As tall as he may have been, in a game of immediate life or death, Connor felt miniscule. He'd thought that he wanted to find Madison, exact some sort of reasoning for why she'd done what she had to Nathan, but the very thought of coming across anyone who'd still been alive was cause for concern. Forrest, Christina and Amelia wouldn't likely be thrilled to see him. Ace was obviously becoming very unhinged; he'd killed someone — what that meant for Ivy was another story. If Connor came upon him, it was very possible that he wouldn't recognize his teammate at all.
As for Madison... well, he wanted to know, but he didn't want curiosity to kill the cat. She'd already proven that she was capable of much, much worse.
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Frozen Smoke
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Her expression soured a little as Connor mentioned hunting. It was a gross parody of what hunting really was, skulking around and waiting for something - someone - to just walk into your crosshairs, just to pull the trigger and then run away with one less problem to deal with. The epitome of every cowardly stereotype uneducated idiots had trying to layer over her favourite pastime, now probably being embodied by those who'd derided it. It would have been funny if it wasn't adding another figurative landmine to the long list that had accumulated in the back of her mind, ways to die before she could do anything about it.
"I dunno, man." Faith replied, her eyes wandering from Connor's and looking over his shoulder, scanning the greenery that stretched out until it blurred together behind him.
"I'm just worried about being caught out in the open. Don't fancy our chances Light Brigade-ing some asshole with an assault rifle out here."
Faith rolled her shoulders in a half shrug as she brought her eyes back to his, as she chewed her bottom lip for a moment, weighing up the paths that seemed to stretch out in front of them. None of them seemed like the right path to take, and yet staying still wasn't going to be an option either, so it was a question of somehow picking the least-bad of all the bad options.
Risk getting cornered, or risk getting shot by someone you couldn't even see. What a choice.
"I dunno, man." Faith replied, her eyes wandering from Connor's and looking over his shoulder, scanning the greenery that stretched out until it blurred together behind him.
"I'm just worried about being caught out in the open. Don't fancy our chances Light Brigade-ing some asshole with an assault rifle out here."
Faith rolled her shoulders in a half shrug as she brought her eyes back to his, as she chewed her bottom lip for a moment, weighing up the paths that seemed to stretch out in front of them. None of them seemed like the right path to take, and yet staying still wasn't going to be an option either, so it was a question of somehow picking the least-bad of all the bad options.
Risk getting cornered, or risk getting shot by someone you couldn't even see. What a choice.
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Waggling his finger in Faith's direction, he nodded with a grim look on his face. That was a possibility that he hadn't considered. People had been winning horrific prizes for murdering their classmates for days now, and while Connor had made a mental note to try and recall whom those people were, Faith hit the nail on the head. All it would take was one psycho with an assault rifle to end their day right then and there.
"Touche, I didn't account for that. Y'all know how crazy that sounds, except..."
Except she was right.
"Shelter it is. Wherever we head, ain't a bad idea to keep our heads low and stay out of any fields. At least if we're in trees or there's something between us and the bullets, it's somethin'."
The biggest issue as Connor saw it actually wasn't the students whose names they were familiar with on the announcements. It was one thing to see Erika coming and know what she was all about, he still didn't really know who Blaise was other than being some weird, androgynous French girl and anyone else whose names had commonly scanned through the announcements were people who were only on the periphery of the social sphere that was at the centre of George Hunter High. The ones who gave him pause were the ones who hadn't had time or reason to pull the trigger on anyone as of yet. It was the same reason that he was certain there were people who were likely sitting out in the cold dreading running into him. Connor knew that having a certain degree of notoriety around school meant that people would make preconceptions about who he was or what he was going to do while on the island. It was the same reason that Faith was likely a target from the get-go, why Sierra had likely ambushed her almost immediately.
People expected her to act a certain way based upon the person that she was back home, much like they thought the same of him. They could say all that they wanted, but the truth was that it could all be boiled down to one singular perception: Connor Lorenzen had too much to lose. It was that particular fact that would likely not endear him to anyone left alive, save perhaps Faith and whatever remained in Madison's psyche. In a world where perception was reality, it was almost comical that Connor didn't even disagree with it. He did have a lot to lose. For years, he had worked in preparation for his future, for his life as a football star. Even choosing to go his own route for his college experience, away from the comfortable shelter that his family name might have afforded him was almost a test in and of itself, as though to say that he could make it on his own. He had no doubt of that, he knew that in the future, there would be tests, trials and tribulations.
Connor hadn't expected this particular test.
"We should be extra careful," he felt his confidence rising again, for what seemed like the first time in days. "No matter who we run across, y'all know they're likely to be damaged. Just because someone hasn't killed yet doesn't mean it ain't for a lack of tryin'."
He afforded himself another look across the lake. A part of him — small as it may have been — felt some guilt at abandoning Forrest and her crew. Even though his internal evaluation of that group marked them as doomed, he wondered just how many of them might slip through the cracks when it was all said and done. On the very first day, he had made a similar decision, and the fatty — Matthew Hunt, he supposed that he owed him a name after surviving this long at least — was still alive and kicking. Caroline and Daria hadn't been long for the game after he'd left them, either.
It was the right choice, he knew. Problem was, sometimes the right choices didn't feel like the good ones.
"Touche, I didn't account for that. Y'all know how crazy that sounds, except..."
Except she was right.
"Shelter it is. Wherever we head, ain't a bad idea to keep our heads low and stay out of any fields. At least if we're in trees or there's something between us and the bullets, it's somethin'."
The biggest issue as Connor saw it actually wasn't the students whose names they were familiar with on the announcements. It was one thing to see Erika coming and know what she was all about, he still didn't really know who Blaise was other than being some weird, androgynous French girl and anyone else whose names had commonly scanned through the announcements were people who were only on the periphery of the social sphere that was at the centre of George Hunter High. The ones who gave him pause were the ones who hadn't had time or reason to pull the trigger on anyone as of yet. It was the same reason that he was certain there were people who were likely sitting out in the cold dreading running into him. Connor knew that having a certain degree of notoriety around school meant that people would make preconceptions about who he was or what he was going to do while on the island. It was the same reason that Faith was likely a target from the get-go, why Sierra had likely ambushed her almost immediately.
People expected her to act a certain way based upon the person that she was back home, much like they thought the same of him. They could say all that they wanted, but the truth was that it could all be boiled down to one singular perception: Connor Lorenzen had too much to lose. It was that particular fact that would likely not endear him to anyone left alive, save perhaps Faith and whatever remained in Madison's psyche. In a world where perception was reality, it was almost comical that Connor didn't even disagree with it. He did have a lot to lose. For years, he had worked in preparation for his future, for his life as a football star. Even choosing to go his own route for his college experience, away from the comfortable shelter that his family name might have afforded him was almost a test in and of itself, as though to say that he could make it on his own. He had no doubt of that, he knew that in the future, there would be tests, trials and tribulations.
Connor hadn't expected this particular test.
"We should be extra careful," he felt his confidence rising again, for what seemed like the first time in days. "No matter who we run across, y'all know they're likely to be damaged. Just because someone hasn't killed yet doesn't mean it ain't for a lack of tryin'."
He afforded himself another look across the lake. A part of him — small as it may have been — felt some guilt at abandoning Forrest and her crew. Even though his internal evaluation of that group marked them as doomed, he wondered just how many of them might slip through the cracks when it was all said and done. On the very first day, he had made a similar decision, and the fatty — Matthew Hunt, he supposed that he owed him a name after surviving this long at least — was still alive and kicking. Caroline and Daria hadn't been long for the game after he'd left them, either.
It was the right choice, he knew. Problem was, sometimes the right choices didn't feel like the good ones.
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Frozen Smoke
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The memory of the dart gun she'd originally had rocking back and forth in her hand, pointed squarely at Sierra's accomplice, floated back to the surface of her mind as Connor spoke about the dangers even the people who hadn't killed yet posed. Faith couldn't remember thinking about what she was doing, not in detail, when she'd pulled the trigger then. The fact that she was attempting to kill someone hadn't been something she'd weighed up, she'd just been reacting, trying to keep herself safe. If things had been just a little different, and the terrorists had given her an actual pistol, that shot probably would have been fatal. Then her name would have graced the announcements, just like everyone else's.
Faith wondered for a moment what Connor would have thought about that, as she coiled the string around her impromptu fishing rod, and stuffed it away in her bag. She hoped he'd believe her, that it was self defence, but she wasn't so sure he would. He seemed so cautious, and whilst that was undeniably smart, she'd also seen that it didn't leave much in the way of room for sentimentality.
Even as she managed to shake that thought, Faith couldn't help but reflect that the attitude, the plan didn't fit Connor well. Like an ill-fitting suit, something about him just trying to keep his head down and not be noticed felt wrong to her. He'd always been the guy to try and head things up before, the person who convinced them to go out to lunch, or dragged Wyatt to the gym when he said he'd go. Shit, he'd been voted Prom King, that was about as opposite of "go with the flow" as you could get. Now he was content to just let life happen to him.
Her expression twisted a little as she gave Connor a concerned, furtive glance, her mouth opening for a fraction of a second before closing. She felt like she had to say something, again, but she wasn't sure how to word it. It felt like Connor had taken two steps away from the step closer he'd taken forwards the day before, drifting back into just trying to be some image of a sensible leader.
The pause stretched.
"Hey, Connor..."
The thought occurred to her that maybe she shouldn't say anything, but it was too late now. She took a quick breath in and out through her nose to steady herself, and continued.
"Look, everything really sucks right now. But, are you okay?" she asked tentatively, as she tried to turn ill-formed worries into something resembling support.
Faith wondered for a moment what Connor would have thought about that, as she coiled the string around her impromptu fishing rod, and stuffed it away in her bag. She hoped he'd believe her, that it was self defence, but she wasn't so sure he would. He seemed so cautious, and whilst that was undeniably smart, she'd also seen that it didn't leave much in the way of room for sentimentality.
Even as she managed to shake that thought, Faith couldn't help but reflect that the attitude, the plan didn't fit Connor well. Like an ill-fitting suit, something about him just trying to keep his head down and not be noticed felt wrong to her. He'd always been the guy to try and head things up before, the person who convinced them to go out to lunch, or dragged Wyatt to the gym when he said he'd go. Shit, he'd been voted Prom King, that was about as opposite of "go with the flow" as you could get. Now he was content to just let life happen to him.
Her expression twisted a little as she gave Connor a concerned, furtive glance, her mouth opening for a fraction of a second before closing. She felt like she had to say something, again, but she wasn't sure how to word it. It felt like Connor had taken two steps away from the step closer he'd taken forwards the day before, drifting back into just trying to be some image of a sensible leader.
The pause stretched.
"Hey, Connor..."
The thought occurred to her that maybe she shouldn't say anything, but it was too late now. She took a quick breath in and out through her nose to steady herself, and continued.
"Look, everything really sucks right now. But, are you okay?" she asked tentatively, as she tried to turn ill-formed worries into something resembling support.
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Connor raised his eyebrow in surprise; that was not what he expected to come from Faith's lips at that particular moment in time. Looking her over, he tried to see if she was picking at something that he wasn't seeing, a sort of tell that he was giving off to indicate otherwise. He wasn't blubbering his eyes out, nor had he sprawled out and given up. While he knew his looks were dishevelled, almost nine days of beard growth had left him with only a vague idea of what his face looked like. Most of the time, his hair was tied back in a ponytail, the grease that he felt as he ran his hands back through it an indication that his mother would have had a fit were she to have seen him.
That last thought caught him a little. She was bound to have a fit either way, given the circumstance.
"Am I... okay?" Connor actually had to laugh. The question seemed ridiculous. "Lord, no."
Looking at Faith, his expression was still neutral, with only a hint of sorrow within. The usual Connor Lorenzen certainty remained, vacant only from his eyes, which she could see looked haunted. His voice never wavered.
"Y'all know that I'm the kind of fellow who likes to be prepared, right? In the classroom, on the football field, in the hallways — I'm always thinkin', readying myself for whatever comes next. Everything that I've ever done has been in service of one goal, one endpoint that at the end of the day, was the most important thing in my life. My folks knew it. I knew it. This was all," he broke eye contact, "just a stepping stone."
He let that piece of information sit in the open for a moment. High school had been a means to an end, another stop along the road, but Connor had always known that it was never the apex of his journey. His was a tale that was bound for bigger and better things.
"Until it wasn't." His grimace was that of grim resignation and some frustration rather than sorrow. "I reckon this ain't going to end well for us; for anyone. I saw what this whole deal did to Wyatt and to Val. What it did to," he shut his eyes and tried to shake the image away, "—to Nathan."
Looking back at Faith, his eyes still remained vacant but he made eye contact as he haphazardly ran his hands back through his oily hair.
"I'm used to being a leader, Faith. Probably a good ninety percent of the time, I'm the one thinkin' up the plan, making the play. Tellin' Ace that I'm gonna call an audible and that I trust him to take it to the house, or gettin' folks together so that the only trouble they'll find is a little underage drinking and maybe a smoke or two; knowing exactly what to say to stop Madison from tearing paint off the walls in public — stuff like that. I know how our world works; I reckon I'm pretty good at it."
Connor's shoulders sagged.
"But this? Dodging bullets and looking to stay alive in what basically counts as a warzone? I'm out of my element, Faith. I'm trying my best, but I ain't got a clue and that scares the hell out of me."
It was perhaps the first time that Connor had ever admitted out loud that he wasn't sure what to do. Even when he'd gone behind his father's back on his choice of school, it had been a well thought out decision of which he'd measured each consequence and every aspect that he could find. When one had resources at their disposal, it was not difficult to predict what the outcome of any basic situation would be. Right now, Connor Lorenzen found himself without resources, without information, and without any idea how to proceed.
So no, he was pretty fucking far from okay.
That last thought caught him a little. She was bound to have a fit either way, given the circumstance.
"Am I... okay?" Connor actually had to laugh. The question seemed ridiculous. "Lord, no."
Looking at Faith, his expression was still neutral, with only a hint of sorrow within. The usual Connor Lorenzen certainty remained, vacant only from his eyes, which she could see looked haunted. His voice never wavered.
"Y'all know that I'm the kind of fellow who likes to be prepared, right? In the classroom, on the football field, in the hallways — I'm always thinkin', readying myself for whatever comes next. Everything that I've ever done has been in service of one goal, one endpoint that at the end of the day, was the most important thing in my life. My folks knew it. I knew it. This was all," he broke eye contact, "just a stepping stone."
He let that piece of information sit in the open for a moment. High school had been a means to an end, another stop along the road, but Connor had always known that it was never the apex of his journey. His was a tale that was bound for bigger and better things.
"Until it wasn't." His grimace was that of grim resignation and some frustration rather than sorrow. "I reckon this ain't going to end well for us; for anyone. I saw what this whole deal did to Wyatt and to Val. What it did to," he shut his eyes and tried to shake the image away, "—to Nathan."
Looking back at Faith, his eyes still remained vacant but he made eye contact as he haphazardly ran his hands back through his oily hair.
"I'm used to being a leader, Faith. Probably a good ninety percent of the time, I'm the one thinkin' up the plan, making the play. Tellin' Ace that I'm gonna call an audible and that I trust him to take it to the house, or gettin' folks together so that the only trouble they'll find is a little underage drinking and maybe a smoke or two; knowing exactly what to say to stop Madison from tearing paint off the walls in public — stuff like that. I know how our world works; I reckon I'm pretty good at it."
Connor's shoulders sagged.
"But this? Dodging bullets and looking to stay alive in what basically counts as a warzone? I'm out of my element, Faith. I'm trying my best, but I ain't got a clue and that scares the hell out of me."
It was perhaps the first time that Connor had ever admitted out loud that he wasn't sure what to do. Even when he'd gone behind his father's back on his choice of school, it had been a well thought out decision of which he'd measured each consequence and every aspect that he could find. When one had resources at their disposal, it was not difficult to predict what the outcome of any basic situation would be. Right now, Connor Lorenzen found himself without resources, without information, and without any idea how to proceed.
So no, he was pretty fucking far from okay.
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Frozen Smoke
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It was an oddly surreal experience, as Connor stood there and answered her question. It reminded her of the times she'd seen a tree felled, watching it hang in mid-air for what seemed like an eternity, before reality kicked in and sent it crashing to the floor. Only here, she'd been swinging the axe without realising it. Faith could only sit and listen in stunned silence as everything finally poured out of him, not just what he'd seen, but what actually worried him. Not the terrible fates that spun out before them like the worlds most sadistic choose-your-own-adventure book, but failing. Not just failing himself, but failing the people around him.
The worst part of it all was the moment after he finished, and she realised that whilst she'd wanted to help, she didn't have any to give. What was she supposed to say? That it was all going to be fine, when it clearly fucking wasn't going to be? That "they" would get through this, when at best one of them would manage to crawl home? Faith felt the guilt creep up inside her, as she chewed on her lip, wondering why she'd ever asked the question in the first place. All she really had to offer was platitudes, and those felt so wrong to fall back on, given everything he'd shared with her.
Faith dropped her gaze, and shut her eyes for a brief moment, trying to calm herself down. It wasn't like Connor was about to run away and leave her if she didn't get this right, he probably needed her around as much as the opposite was true, but she had to do something to make this right.
She dragged herself off of the stump and onto her feet, taking a half-step closer to his dull green eyes seemed to question what she was doing. Part of her just wanted to throw her arms wide and hug him, but something about doing that felt cheap, so instead she brought her left hand up and squeezed his shoulder in what she hoped was a reassuring manner.
"Connor, I'm..." not expecting you to fix this.
She swallowed those words, looking away for a moment. Too blunt. Too hard on his ego.
"I'm not looking for a leader, I'm looking for a friend. I don't expect you to have a clue, no-one fuckin' does, I just... ach."
She shook her head for a moment, somehow finding the energy to offer him a strained, bashful smile as she failed to find the words to put that message back onto track.
"We're in this together, y'know. That's what matters to me."
The worst part of it all was the moment after he finished, and she realised that whilst she'd wanted to help, she didn't have any to give. What was she supposed to say? That it was all going to be fine, when it clearly fucking wasn't going to be? That "they" would get through this, when at best one of them would manage to crawl home? Faith felt the guilt creep up inside her, as she chewed on her lip, wondering why she'd ever asked the question in the first place. All she really had to offer was platitudes, and those felt so wrong to fall back on, given everything he'd shared with her.
Faith dropped her gaze, and shut her eyes for a brief moment, trying to calm herself down. It wasn't like Connor was about to run away and leave her if she didn't get this right, he probably needed her around as much as the opposite was true, but she had to do something to make this right.
She dragged herself off of the stump and onto her feet, taking a half-step closer to his dull green eyes seemed to question what she was doing. Part of her just wanted to throw her arms wide and hug him, but something about doing that felt cheap, so instead she brought her left hand up and squeezed his shoulder in what she hoped was a reassuring manner.
"Connor, I'm..." not expecting you to fix this.
She swallowed those words, looking away for a moment. Too blunt. Too hard on his ego.
"I'm not looking for a leader, I'm looking for a friend. I don't expect you to have a clue, no-one fuckin' does, I just... ach."
She shook her head for a moment, somehow finding the energy to offer him a strained, bashful smile as she failed to find the words to put that message back onto track.
"We're in this together, y'know. That's what matters to me."
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Faith hadn't been expecting him to actually tell her the truth, that much was perfectly clear. It was similar to the idea that when you asked someone how they were, the correct response was 'good, and you?' Nobody actually expected the person they asked to tell them about their troubles, most of the time the question was posed out of courtesy or politeness. That was something that Connor had learned from his parents, the ins and outs of the social contract. As he had just said to Faith, it was something that he considered himself rather good at. Most people who came upon him expected platitudes, they expected him to be a stereotypical football jock, all bustle and no substance.
No one ever asked him the question and expected him to have any other answer.
Most of the time, he was fine with that. Sometimes he opened up; often people didn't expect it. Like he had with Sierra that one day at the military park, sometimes a wayward question could open a door that no one expected.
Sometimes he liked being underestimated. People spent so much time looking at him as an untouchable figure that filling in some of the blanks and reminding his classmates that he was just a kid needed to happen every so often. At Faith's reassuring squeeze, he nodded and gave her a more genuine smile than he had worn in a few days. He wasn't sure what she had expected, but it wasn't that.
"Nah, I know. Ain't no one else who's going to understand what we're goin' through any better than we will, right here and right now. You're lookin' for a friend?"
Connor nodded. He may not have had a team anymore; the number of people even left alive that he'd have seen fit to send a text message to if he were able was a tiny number. His girlfriend may have been guilty of murder and his best friends were all dead — the rest of his life was likely to be counted in days or even hours rather than weeks.
But all he needed was one.
One friend.
One ally.
"You found one. Y'all know that all we can do is give this our best shot. Ain't nothin' else to do but that."
Straightening up, he felt his own confidence swelling back up. He may not have had a team anymore — Ace was the only one on the trip still alive, and by his count, his old friend had likely lost his mind — but he had someone that he could depend on.
Hopefully, that would be enough.
"So," he slowly rose to his feet, his knees popping as he straightened out to his full height. They had been sitting for a little while and the sun was starting to come up. He wanted to be far away from Forrest, Christina and Amelia when they awoke. It was unlikely that they would start looking for the duo, but he didn't want to take that chance.
"To the village?"
No one ever asked him the question and expected him to have any other answer.
Most of the time, he was fine with that. Sometimes he opened up; often people didn't expect it. Like he had with Sierra that one day at the military park, sometimes a wayward question could open a door that no one expected.
Sometimes he liked being underestimated. People spent so much time looking at him as an untouchable figure that filling in some of the blanks and reminding his classmates that he was just a kid needed to happen every so often. At Faith's reassuring squeeze, he nodded and gave her a more genuine smile than he had worn in a few days. He wasn't sure what she had expected, but it wasn't that.
"Nah, I know. Ain't no one else who's going to understand what we're goin' through any better than we will, right here and right now. You're lookin' for a friend?"
Connor nodded. He may not have had a team anymore; the number of people even left alive that he'd have seen fit to send a text message to if he were able was a tiny number. His girlfriend may have been guilty of murder and his best friends were all dead — the rest of his life was likely to be counted in days or even hours rather than weeks.
But all he needed was one.
One friend.
One ally.
"You found one. Y'all know that all we can do is give this our best shot. Ain't nothin' else to do but that."
Straightening up, he felt his own confidence swelling back up. He may not have had a team anymore — Ace was the only one on the trip still alive, and by his count, his old friend had likely lost his mind — but he had someone that he could depend on.
Hopefully, that would be enough.
"So," he slowly rose to his feet, his knees popping as he straightened out to his full height. They had been sitting for a little while and the sun was starting to come up. He wanted to be far away from Forrest, Christina and Amelia when they awoke. It was unlikely that they would start looking for the duo, but he didn't want to take that chance.
"To the village?"