High Tides and High Hopes
Posted: Mon Nov 01, 2010 9:22 am
[Boy #61 - William Hearst. Continued from Morning Comes Slowly]
Hour after hour slipped on by as they kept a steady pace along the coastline, idle chatter between the pair of companions kept to a relative minimum compared to the previous journey. A slightly more somber tone followed the two until considerable time had passed, the first words between the two since they set forth from their camp were spoken only as morning gave way to afternoon and they sat down to eat what little they could. A meager offering of boiled water that became pine needle tea, some edible plants gathered along the way and what little remained of their combined personal snacks.
"About Peter..."
William initiated the conversation as he took the bottle off the line that held it above the fire, offering the improvised flavored drink to his fairer companion for the better half of two days. Up until then, little had been spoken since they left and little had been done; they simply walked on and on, focused on the task at hand with neither straying for long. They'd come to rely and trust in one another, or at least that is how the young man saw the situation; despite the events and the unspoken thoughts and feelings, they were in this together and would stick together. He knew her misgivings and was hesitant to voice his own... until now.
"What do you think of him? Or about him and Maddy?"
A silly question dredged up from a safer time when death didn't loom around every corner and behind every tree, hiding within every bush just a moment away. Where the decision to harm or kill another was never thought of outside the context of fiction and fantasy, of books and games and the other visual mediums.
"I mean, how do you feel about it? I'm curious..."
With hours to do nothing but think on things long past, there was little to do besides to turn to old feelings and old flames; maybe they wouldn't make much difference from now on but it was all he really had to dwell on, the only thing he really wondered about. He knew how the others in his life felt and the events that had transpired between them told him exactly how much he would be cared for and missed in this hellish situation of nightmarish proportions.
"I mean... I... well, with what we're going through now I'm just wondering where I would stand, y'know? I know everyone has their priorities and the people they want to find the most and it's just..."
He didn't really know how to put it or explain it without it sounding overly strange, without it coming off as something that was inappropriate or just plain weird to bring up in this place. He didn't want to push Tiffany away, certainly not, but they were still students with problems and issues and concerns that related to normal life; perhaps bringing up something that was at least resembling a normal issue just felt... right. Just felt, well, normal.
"I trust him and everything but I worry now about running into people we thought were friends in school. The names that get mentioned on those lists, they were friends too, some more than others, but they were still friends. And yet, they've turned around and killed each other. And I just... I can't help but wonder and worry."
This wasn't coming out right at all, he felt it and he knew it but he didn't know what to say to make it better. In the end, he didn't even really know what he wanted to come out and say to begin with, ending on a point that just made things worse instead of making them better; at least, that was the conclusion that he had jumped to in his mess of a mind. Without proper nutrition or proper rest, nothing was really making much sense now or fitting just right. Then again, would anything every make sense again?
"I worry, Tiffany. I worry a lot."
Night came again, uneasiness settling over Will's mind as he stared out at the ocean the very same way he'd done so the night before. Everything came back, everything he thought of and everything he said in silence to the waves and to the one said to be listening at all times. He thought of the curses he flung at everything he thought was to blame for the situation he'd been placed in, for the horrors he would have to face as the days slowly passed by with little respite. Now, sitting again with his sights set over the horizon and the shifting waves as a small fire crackled behind, he began to regret his words; blaming everyone else he deemed responsible and seeking to find someone to direct his anger at. He believed it to have been the cause of... of what he had done.
He believed it to have been punishment.
Possibly for what he had said or any perceived sins he had committed, but then and there at that moment he truly believed had been punished for what he'd done. So, for this night for what may very well have been the first time in his life, he turned to the nearest member of an organized religion. He turned to her and tried to figure out what he was about to ask of her in confidence, what he was going to seek her assistance with in this moment of fear and uncertainty.
"Tiffany? Um... You're religious, right? Do you think..."
The words caught in his throat for a moment as he forced the request to come forth, forcing himself to accept it as a possibility in this new reality. Things up until now had yet to look to rational to him, so now it was time to turn to the alternatives; he may not have liked them in the past but they were there now and they may be the only means of support he would find outside the arms of a dear friend. Perhaps it would give him the strength she had lent him so many times already.
"Do you think we could... I mean, I'm not really sure about all of this stuff, but do you think we could pray?"
There was much to be hopeful for in the coming days and nights to follow this, much to seek forgiveness for and much to be thankful for. In a moment of uncertainty, of doubt and fear of the things that have happened and the thing that would come, he turned to the only thing he could at that moment. He turned to the only source of religion he knew of, the only source he trusted in this place of horror and nightmares brought to life. Outside of the weapon that he relied upon to give him the strength he'd need to face the reality of what they had been forced into, Tiffany and her undying faith looked to be the only real strong pillar of support remaining. In that moment, it was a source of strength, of any kind, that he was not willing to pass up.
"So, um... how does this go?"
Sitting through the second list that morning was hell again, but one that had been expected; it was hard to deal with, that was certain, but there weren't any named that struck William hard. At least, none that struck him as hard as Everett's had, still mourning the loss of such a good friend and yet there was nothing to be done about it now but go on living in his stead, doing what he could not and surviving in this hell. If they ever got out of this, he hoped to let everyone rest with a proper burial... but he wasn't likely to get home, was he? No, he may end up just like the others on the list of those who'd died before him, but he could hope and wish for the smallest thing; in this case, a proper burial instead of simply being left on the island. Surely that would be a reasonable request to make.
Of course, the people who ran this weren't exactly... reasonable.
That voice that dripped of sarcasm and sick joy from the goings on of the students on the island... he hated it. He hated it with every last drop of anger and fury he had in him and just listening to that man read off the list, offering up his little quips and quotes with the mention of murder and tragic deaths was just...
"Fuck!"
He swung the old branch hard against the tree, snapping the dead wood in twain with splinters flying off in all directions; he was gathering wood for a fire to keep them warm through the coming night, something he'd done many times already. He'd gotten quite good at dredging up old methods of fire starting in this place of little and this island of plenty; even without the proper tools, he had enough knowledge from his time with Alex and Peter out camping and hiking to make due. Perhaps he would have been better off with Alex's expertise, his perceived and believed superior knowledge of such wonderfully useful little things would have been most helpful now.
"Sorry... I just... I can't stand thinking about that man, that bastard that put us here. I can't stand to think about the joy he's getting from watching us down here, toiling away to survive the night in this god forsaken hellhole."
His temper had boiled over in his rush to gather the materials, the sun sinking fast beyond the horizon as he worked at a furious pace; they needed enough to last the night and more just in case a storm rolled in. There hadn't been any rain yet, but he wasn't leaving things to chance here; one bad rainy night could end things for the two of them and he wasn't about to let Tiffany down like that. So, he worked tirelessly, breaking the larger pieces of dry wood as best he could before gathering them up, carting them back to the place they would sit to rest. Well, the place they planned to rest, but things were never sure here; something could happen that they didn't expect, something that may leave them without a place to stay and seeking shelter elsewhere.
But it's best not to dwell on such things now.
"Anyways, from what I can tell, we're right around here on the map. If we can set out in that direction tomorrow morning, we should be able to cut back towards the building here. It's the only large building out this way, so let's hope we find Peter or Alex there."
With the rush to get things done, he wasn't focused on thinking back on what had happened or what could happen in the next day to come. He didn't want to end up dwelling on that again, didn't want to always come back to the fear and the uncertainty, to the panic and the paranoia that drove him to... drove him to...
Damn it! Not now! I can't let her down now.
He shook his head, shaking off the thoughts and the doubts that began slipping their way back in. He had a job to do and damn it, he was going to do it whether he liked it or not.
"Mind bringing that pile of shavings over here?"
He had to get the fire started. It was already dark. Already late.
Hour after hour slipped on by as they kept a steady pace along the coastline, idle chatter between the pair of companions kept to a relative minimum compared to the previous journey. A slightly more somber tone followed the two until considerable time had passed, the first words between the two since they set forth from their camp were spoken only as morning gave way to afternoon and they sat down to eat what little they could. A meager offering of boiled water that became pine needle tea, some edible plants gathered along the way and what little remained of their combined personal snacks.
"About Peter..."
William initiated the conversation as he took the bottle off the line that held it above the fire, offering the improvised flavored drink to his fairer companion for the better half of two days. Up until then, little had been spoken since they left and little had been done; they simply walked on and on, focused on the task at hand with neither straying for long. They'd come to rely and trust in one another, or at least that is how the young man saw the situation; despite the events and the unspoken thoughts and feelings, they were in this together and would stick together. He knew her misgivings and was hesitant to voice his own... until now.
"What do you think of him? Or about him and Maddy?"
A silly question dredged up from a safer time when death didn't loom around every corner and behind every tree, hiding within every bush just a moment away. Where the decision to harm or kill another was never thought of outside the context of fiction and fantasy, of books and games and the other visual mediums.
"I mean, how do you feel about it? I'm curious..."
With hours to do nothing but think on things long past, there was little to do besides to turn to old feelings and old flames; maybe they wouldn't make much difference from now on but it was all he really had to dwell on, the only thing he really wondered about. He knew how the others in his life felt and the events that had transpired between them told him exactly how much he would be cared for and missed in this hellish situation of nightmarish proportions.
"I mean... I... well, with what we're going through now I'm just wondering where I would stand, y'know? I know everyone has their priorities and the people they want to find the most and it's just..."
He didn't really know how to put it or explain it without it sounding overly strange, without it coming off as something that was inappropriate or just plain weird to bring up in this place. He didn't want to push Tiffany away, certainly not, but they were still students with problems and issues and concerns that related to normal life; perhaps bringing up something that was at least resembling a normal issue just felt... right. Just felt, well, normal.
"I trust him and everything but I worry now about running into people we thought were friends in school. The names that get mentioned on those lists, they were friends too, some more than others, but they were still friends. And yet, they've turned around and killed each other. And I just... I can't help but wonder and worry."
This wasn't coming out right at all, he felt it and he knew it but he didn't know what to say to make it better. In the end, he didn't even really know what he wanted to come out and say to begin with, ending on a point that just made things worse instead of making them better; at least, that was the conclusion that he had jumped to in his mess of a mind. Without proper nutrition or proper rest, nothing was really making much sense now or fitting just right. Then again, would anything every make sense again?
"I worry, Tiffany. I worry a lot."
Night came again, uneasiness settling over Will's mind as he stared out at the ocean the very same way he'd done so the night before. Everything came back, everything he thought of and everything he said in silence to the waves and to the one said to be listening at all times. He thought of the curses he flung at everything he thought was to blame for the situation he'd been placed in, for the horrors he would have to face as the days slowly passed by with little respite. Now, sitting again with his sights set over the horizon and the shifting waves as a small fire crackled behind, he began to regret his words; blaming everyone else he deemed responsible and seeking to find someone to direct his anger at. He believed it to have been the cause of... of what he had done.
He believed it to have been punishment.
Possibly for what he had said or any perceived sins he had committed, but then and there at that moment he truly believed had been punished for what he'd done. So, for this night for what may very well have been the first time in his life, he turned to the nearest member of an organized religion. He turned to her and tried to figure out what he was about to ask of her in confidence, what he was going to seek her assistance with in this moment of fear and uncertainty.
"Tiffany? Um... You're religious, right? Do you think..."
The words caught in his throat for a moment as he forced the request to come forth, forcing himself to accept it as a possibility in this new reality. Things up until now had yet to look to rational to him, so now it was time to turn to the alternatives; he may not have liked them in the past but they were there now and they may be the only means of support he would find outside the arms of a dear friend. Perhaps it would give him the strength she had lent him so many times already.
"Do you think we could... I mean, I'm not really sure about all of this stuff, but do you think we could pray?"
There was much to be hopeful for in the coming days and nights to follow this, much to seek forgiveness for and much to be thankful for. In a moment of uncertainty, of doubt and fear of the things that have happened and the thing that would come, he turned to the only thing he could at that moment. He turned to the only source of religion he knew of, the only source he trusted in this place of horror and nightmares brought to life. Outside of the weapon that he relied upon to give him the strength he'd need to face the reality of what they had been forced into, Tiffany and her undying faith looked to be the only real strong pillar of support remaining. In that moment, it was a source of strength, of any kind, that he was not willing to pass up.
"So, um... how does this go?"
Sitting through the second list that morning was hell again, but one that had been expected; it was hard to deal with, that was certain, but there weren't any named that struck William hard. At least, none that struck him as hard as Everett's had, still mourning the loss of such a good friend and yet there was nothing to be done about it now but go on living in his stead, doing what he could not and surviving in this hell. If they ever got out of this, he hoped to let everyone rest with a proper burial... but he wasn't likely to get home, was he? No, he may end up just like the others on the list of those who'd died before him, but he could hope and wish for the smallest thing; in this case, a proper burial instead of simply being left on the island. Surely that would be a reasonable request to make.
Of course, the people who ran this weren't exactly... reasonable.
That voice that dripped of sarcasm and sick joy from the goings on of the students on the island... he hated it. He hated it with every last drop of anger and fury he had in him and just listening to that man read off the list, offering up his little quips and quotes with the mention of murder and tragic deaths was just...
"Fuck!"
He swung the old branch hard against the tree, snapping the dead wood in twain with splinters flying off in all directions; he was gathering wood for a fire to keep them warm through the coming night, something he'd done many times already. He'd gotten quite good at dredging up old methods of fire starting in this place of little and this island of plenty; even without the proper tools, he had enough knowledge from his time with Alex and Peter out camping and hiking to make due. Perhaps he would have been better off with Alex's expertise, his perceived and believed superior knowledge of such wonderfully useful little things would have been most helpful now.
"Sorry... I just... I can't stand thinking about that man, that bastard that put us here. I can't stand to think about the joy he's getting from watching us down here, toiling away to survive the night in this god forsaken hellhole."
His temper had boiled over in his rush to gather the materials, the sun sinking fast beyond the horizon as he worked at a furious pace; they needed enough to last the night and more just in case a storm rolled in. There hadn't been any rain yet, but he wasn't leaving things to chance here; one bad rainy night could end things for the two of them and he wasn't about to let Tiffany down like that. So, he worked tirelessly, breaking the larger pieces of dry wood as best he could before gathering them up, carting them back to the place they would sit to rest. Well, the place they planned to rest, but things were never sure here; something could happen that they didn't expect, something that may leave them without a place to stay and seeking shelter elsewhere.
But it's best not to dwell on such things now.
"Anyways, from what I can tell, we're right around here on the map. If we can set out in that direction tomorrow morning, we should be able to cut back towards the building here. It's the only large building out this way, so let's hope we find Peter or Alex there."
With the rush to get things done, he wasn't focused on thinking back on what had happened or what could happen in the next day to come. He didn't want to end up dwelling on that again, didn't want to always come back to the fear and the uncertainty, to the panic and the paranoia that drove him to... drove him to...
Damn it! Not now! I can't let her down now.
He shook his head, shaking off the thoughts and the doubts that began slipping their way back in. He had a job to do and damn it, he was going to do it whether he liked it or not.
"Mind bringing that pile of shavings over here?"
He had to get the fire started. It was already dark. Already late.