((Raina Rose and Johnny McKay continued from Thanatophobia))
Outside, outside was good, outside was freeing. Raina didn't think she'd ever loved the outdoors as much as she did right this minute as she burst through the front entrance of the asylum and out to the gardens, all her plans and justifications completely forgotten, swept away with the noise of gunfire still ringing in her ears.
She was still dragging Johnny by the wrist, and so when she stumbled, feet tangling in the overgrown weeds and one ankle twisting painfully, he went down to the ground with her.
For a few moments, everything was startlingly quiet save for their labored breathing. The quiet was broken when Raina began to sob, screwing her eyes shut and pressing her forehead into the dirt. She didn't want Johnny to see her cry. He'd feel awkward and sorry for her and maybe guilty, and sure she could maybe yell at him for lighting up a cigarette when she'd told him the smell would tip people off to where they were, but it wasn't fair to blame him for what had happened. She wasn't unfair. She'd been determined to treat everyone as equally as she could.
And that was why Jasper and Audrey could die, just like anybody else who wasn't in on their plan and ready to help.
Raina felt sick. At Alvaro, at herself, at the sick bastards who had put them here, at the government that had failed for ten years now - ten years! - to put a stop to all of this. At everyone who was watching at home, whether they meant well or not. Fucking grief consumers. She could yell at them, if she wasn't trying to hard to keep from full on blubbering.
And dammit, she'd meant to stay in the asylum longer, to go search the basement labs for anything useful, but she couldn't. She couldn't go back in and risk running into Alvaro and his gun or seeing Jasper and Audrey's bodies. She couldn't do anything right now except lay in the dirt and cry, like she should have been for the last three days.
Coward Mont Blanc
Late afternoon/evening Day 3; open
Coward Mont Blanc
"Art enriches the community, Steve, no less than a pulsing fire hose, or a fireman beating down a blazing door. So what if we're drawing a nude man? So what if all we ever draw is a nude man, or the same nude man over and over in all sorts of provocative positions? Context, not content! Process, not subject! Don't be so gauche, Steve, it's beneath you."
Lying on the ground on Earth, Johnny Ray McKay wondered how far away the sky was. Far, far above him it began to darken.
Things had gone to shit here, as things were wont to do, and Johnny had come as close as he ever had in his short life to dying, or so he thought. You never knew though, did you? Maybe the apple next to the one he'd picked from the selection had been full of poison and pestilence. Maybe a rattlesnake'd crawled up to him once and kept on crawling. Maybe a lightning bolt had forked its way elsewhere when it'd been destined for his tender head. You couldn't tell, could you, just how many deaths you'd dodged.
Shit, maybe he was overdue.
Johnny spat. He had books out from every library stupid enough to issue him a card, and if he knew his parents as well as he thought he did, those venerable institutions wouldn't be seeing a page of their literature ever again. He had no problems with being overdue.
Nobody would describe Johnny as being overburdened with courtesy, but in fairness people only learn what they're taught, and precious little courtesy had been done to him. Johnny had been disrespected, disregarded and dismissed by every citizen of the great metropolis of Kingman in good standing, and goddammit just a little politeness was owed to him, he felt. Death could wait on him, for a little while longer at least.
Fuck dying just yet.
On the ground next to him Raina heaved and sobbed. Johnny did the gentlemanly thing and pretended not to notice.
Things had gone to shit here, as things were wont to do, and Johnny had come as close as he ever had in his short life to dying, or so he thought. You never knew though, did you? Maybe the apple next to the one he'd picked from the selection had been full of poison and pestilence. Maybe a rattlesnake'd crawled up to him once and kept on crawling. Maybe a lightning bolt had forked its way elsewhere when it'd been destined for his tender head. You couldn't tell, could you, just how many deaths you'd dodged.
Shit, maybe he was overdue.
Johnny spat. He had books out from every library stupid enough to issue him a card, and if he knew his parents as well as he thought he did, those venerable institutions wouldn't be seeing a page of their literature ever again. He had no problems with being overdue.
Nobody would describe Johnny as being overburdened with courtesy, but in fairness people only learn what they're taught, and precious little courtesy had been done to him. Johnny had been disrespected, disregarded and dismissed by every citizen of the great metropolis of Kingman in good standing, and goddammit just a little politeness was owed to him, he felt. Death could wait on him, for a little while longer at least.
Fuck dying just yet.
On the ground next to him Raina heaved and sobbed. Johnny did the gentlemanly thing and pretended not to notice.
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At some point, Raina's tears ran dry and her sobs were reduced to the occasional hiccup. When she felt - well, not composed, but not falling apart anymore at least, she sat up and wiped her eyes and nose on the back of her sleeve. Johnny seemed content to just chill on the ground next to her; some part of her was pathetically grateful that he hadn't called attention to her crying.
Instead of addressing him, Raina examined her ankle. It hurt, but it didn't feel like any serious damage had been done, in her unprofessional estimation. Putting weight on it might hurt for a bit, but she thought she could walk.
Not that she felt like walking anywhere right now. Dark clouds were beginning to gather overhead, promising rain later on. They'd have to head inside somewhere soon, but the asylum was out of the question for the time being. It was a huge building, and realistically they probably wouldn't bump into Alvaro again, but the thought of heading back inside had every survival instinct she still had intact screaming at the idiocy.
So, what had she accomplished so far? Three days of sitting and planning with nothing to show for it, and probably two dead bodies that had been people she liked and cared about. She couldn't have done anything against that gun, had it been turned on her. She had to live, so that she could help others live. Running away had been the smart and practical thing to do. Big picture.
Raina wondered how long it would take for all of those announcements to really start feeling like statistics instead of people, and she half-hoped it would happen faster.
Instead of addressing him, Raina examined her ankle. It hurt, but it didn't feel like any serious damage had been done, in her unprofessional estimation. Putting weight on it might hurt for a bit, but she thought she could walk.
Not that she felt like walking anywhere right now. Dark clouds were beginning to gather overhead, promising rain later on. They'd have to head inside somewhere soon, but the asylum was out of the question for the time being. It was a huge building, and realistically they probably wouldn't bump into Alvaro again, but the thought of heading back inside had every survival instinct she still had intact screaming at the idiocy.
So, what had she accomplished so far? Three days of sitting and planning with nothing to show for it, and probably two dead bodies that had been people she liked and cared about. She couldn't have done anything against that gun, had it been turned on her. She had to live, so that she could help others live. Running away had been the smart and practical thing to do. Big picture.
Raina wondered how long it would take for all of those announcements to really start feeling like statistics instead of people, and she half-hoped it would happen faster.
"Art enriches the community, Steve, no less than a pulsing fire hose, or a fireman beating down a blazing door. So what if we're drawing a nude man? So what if all we ever draw is a nude man, or the same nude man over and over in all sorts of provocative positions? Context, not content! Process, not subject! Don't be so gauche, Steve, it's beneath you."
Johnny cleared his throat. It was dry, sandpapery - the early stages of a cold, if he was any judge, and Johnny fancied that he was. The early stages weren't so bad, Johnny thought. He'd probably miss the worst of it, and at this notion he gave a little chuckle.
"So, Ray, that was uhh... I mean that wasn't great, yeah?"
He'd aimed at reassuring, but to his ears the words stank of condescension. johnny backtracked a little.
"That situation, I mean. Back in that fucking hospital. The one we found ourselves in, y'know? Not how ya acted or anything, that was... shit, i dunno Ray. You play the hand you're dealt, right, an' I can't really see what we could've done different..."
This hadn't been where Johnny had meant to take things, insofar as Johnny ever meant to take things anywhere. His habit was simply to talk and to let his words wander where they might, but he'd opened his mouth now with a plan of sorts, to calm Raina, put her at ease, figure out their next move. Clearly, he wasn't doing great at it.
"That place sucked, okay? Those last three days sucked, this whole fucking... fucking thing, sucks, but whatever, right?"
He attempted a grin, his teeth like an antique piano that someone'd taken a sledge hammer to.
"Let's get the fuck out of here already."
"So, Ray, that was uhh... I mean that wasn't great, yeah?"
He'd aimed at reassuring, but to his ears the words stank of condescension. johnny backtracked a little.
"That situation, I mean. Back in that fucking hospital. The one we found ourselves in, y'know? Not how ya acted or anything, that was... shit, i dunno Ray. You play the hand you're dealt, right, an' I can't really see what we could've done different..."
This hadn't been where Johnny had meant to take things, insofar as Johnny ever meant to take things anywhere. His habit was simply to talk and to let his words wander where they might, but he'd opened his mouth now with a plan of sorts, to calm Raina, put her at ease, figure out their next move. Clearly, he wasn't doing great at it.
"That place sucked, okay? Those last three days sucked, this whole fucking... fucking thing, sucks, but whatever, right?"
He attempted a grin, his teeth like an antique piano that someone'd taken a sledge hammer to.
"Let's get the fuck out of here already."
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler frogue. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
Raina almost could have laughed, but the knot in her chest wouldn't let her and going from crying hysterically to laughing in the span of a couple minutes would't convince anyone that she was smart and stable. Yeah, nearly dying "wasn't great". Neither was abandoning your friends to the maniac with a gun for the sake of an all-but-nonexistent plan.
But she'd think of something, a plan that would make the sacrifices mean something.
Raina hugged herself, keeping her eyes on the ground though she could still make out Johnny's attempted grin from the corner of her eye like a gap in a crooked, splintered fence. No, they couldn't have done anything different. Nothing that wouldn't have gotten at least one of them shot, anyway. Be practical.
"The supply depot," she said in answer to Johnny's unspoken question. "The big warehouse there, and then the buildings in the utilities compound when that opens up tomorrow." The labs in the asylum basement beckoned her again, but they were dark and cold and flooded and probably full of worse things than water by now. Later. Later, if they still lacked what they needed. If there was a later.
Still, she made no move to stand.
But she'd think of something, a plan that would make the sacrifices mean something.
Raina hugged herself, keeping her eyes on the ground though she could still make out Johnny's attempted grin from the corner of her eye like a gap in a crooked, splintered fence. No, they couldn't have done anything different. Nothing that wouldn't have gotten at least one of them shot, anyway. Be practical.
"The supply depot," she said in answer to Johnny's unspoken question. "The big warehouse there, and then the buildings in the utilities compound when that opens up tomorrow." The labs in the asylum basement beckoned her again, but they were dark and cold and flooded and probably full of worse things than water by now. Later. Later, if they still lacked what they needed. If there was a later.
Still, she made no move to stand.
"Art enriches the community, Steve, no less than a pulsing fire hose, or a fireman beating down a blazing door. So what if we're drawing a nude man? So what if all we ever draw is a nude man, or the same nude man over and over in all sorts of provocative positions? Context, not content! Process, not subject! Don't be so gauche, Steve, it's beneath you."
Ugh.
Staying in a pitiful heap for the foreseeable future was a more attractive option than Raina really cared to admit. But what would that do for her? Sit here until Alvaro finds his way out of the asylum after them, or some other acquaintance who drank the SOTF Kool-Aid rolled up? Her story wouldn't end like that. It wouldn't end at all, not here.
"The supply depot," she said again, more firmly. She stood, brushing grass and dirt from her legs. She was tempted to ask if Johnny had a better idea, half just to challenge him to satisfy her own ego in some way, but she thought better of it. Johnny was... he was a good guy. Not smart, not attractive, not particularly talented at anything, and probably not really going anywhere in life even without this curveball, but he was good. He'd stuck by her and he believed in her. She wouldn't let him down.
"Even if we can't make it over there before it starts to rain, we'll be near the utilities buildings for tomorrow morning, and then we can work our way down. Once we're through there, we can head back around the island if we need to, full circle. Sound good?" It did. Of course it did. Johnny didn't have any better ideas, and they'd decided she was the one in charge.
Hell, she'd kept them alive, hadn't she? She'd made the decision to run and save their skins. She'd know what she was looking for when she saw it, and then she'd have saved them for good.
Yes, she would think of something. She would have plenty of time to do that while they walked. Raina dusted her bag off, took a quick peek inside to make sure that the grenade hadn't been jostled too badly - the thought of such a thing nestled against her body still sent a cold discomfort through her when she allowed herself to think about it - and shouldered it. "We'd better hurry if we don't want to get caught out in the rain."
Staying in a pitiful heap for the foreseeable future was a more attractive option than Raina really cared to admit. But what would that do for her? Sit here until Alvaro finds his way out of the asylum after them, or some other acquaintance who drank the SOTF Kool-Aid rolled up? Her story wouldn't end like that. It wouldn't end at all, not here.
"The supply depot," she said again, more firmly. She stood, brushing grass and dirt from her legs. She was tempted to ask if Johnny had a better idea, half just to challenge him to satisfy her own ego in some way, but she thought better of it. Johnny was... he was a good guy. Not smart, not attractive, not particularly talented at anything, and probably not really going anywhere in life even without this curveball, but he was good. He'd stuck by her and he believed in her. She wouldn't let him down.
"Even if we can't make it over there before it starts to rain, we'll be near the utilities buildings for tomorrow morning, and then we can work our way down. Once we're through there, we can head back around the island if we need to, full circle. Sound good?" It did. Of course it did. Johnny didn't have any better ideas, and they'd decided she was the one in charge.
Hell, she'd kept them alive, hadn't she? She'd made the decision to run and save their skins. She'd know what she was looking for when she saw it, and then she'd have saved them for good.
Yes, she would think of something. She would have plenty of time to do that while they walked. Raina dusted her bag off, took a quick peek inside to make sure that the grenade hadn't been jostled too badly - the thought of such a thing nestled against her body still sent a cold discomfort through her when she allowed herself to think about it - and shouldered it. "We'd better hurry if we don't want to get caught out in the rain."
"Art enriches the community, Steve, no less than a pulsing fire hose, or a fireman beating down a blazing door. So what if we're drawing a nude man? So what if all we ever draw is a nude man, or the same nude man over and over in all sorts of provocative positions? Context, not content! Process, not subject! Don't be so gauche, Steve, it's beneath you."
Raina repeated her self, snapping Johnny from his reverie.
In his mind he'd taken flight, wings sprouting from his shoulder blades and bursting through the ragged fabric of his hoodie, arcing out behind him and lifting him up and up. He'd climbed, higher and higher above the island and he'd looked down on it and seen himself and Raina and everyone else who'd yet to check out, scattered out across the island like the chocolate chips on a cookie. Johnny'd lifted himself up into the sky and the people below had shrunk and shrunk until he couldn't make out who they were, yet higher still he risen until he couldn't see anyone, then until the island itself had vanished into the infinity of the sea. As the people below him had become noone and nothing and nowhere, he'd been free.
This was something Johnny'd done often, back in Kingman. Birds had always fascinated him, and he would frequently find himself distracted about his day upon seeing one, trying to imagine what their lives were like. To be able to go anywhere, do anything, not having to worry about study or work or the future but spending every day just flying and exploring and shitting on people's jackets - these were the things dreams were made of.
The sight of a bird was far better than that of a person, and Johnny imagined the world through his new, avian eyes. Birds were tetrachromats, with four cone cells instead of three, and could see many times more colours as a result. He pictured a world of rainbows, with the drab, grey sky replaced by a swirling panoply of hues. It was breathtaking he'd decided, as he'd closed his eyes and half-listened to Raina, his mind awander.
Johnny really should've been a bird, he decided. It was an egregious mistake on the part of is Creator, though Johnny resolved to let it slide if He had the mercy to let Johnny pass quickly. All this shit was only temporary anyway, right? How much did it really matter how he'd spent it, once he got out of the line and into the actual show, and it wasn't like he'd had to wait all that long, either - a hell of a lot of birds had to stick around a lot longer than he'd have to. One book her'd read said that eagles could hit a hundred.
Absent of thought, Johnny had drawn a cigarette and planted it like a sapling between his upturned lips. He'd given it plenty of light, and lo it did grow a veritable bounty of smoke. Eyes closed, Johnny inhaled deeply, holding the smoke in his lungs and trying to savour it.
How did you which cigarette would be your last? He didn't suppose you could.
Johnny was drawn from his flight of fancy by Raina's voice, sharp and insistent, and took him a moment to re-orientate himself, to figure out what it was she'd just said. The supply depot, right. He sat up and smiled, cigarette still hanging from his mouth, and gave a languid little nod and a half-arsed salute.
"Sure."
He drew himself up to her height and shouldered his bag.
"Lay on, MacDuff."
In his mind he'd taken flight, wings sprouting from his shoulder blades and bursting through the ragged fabric of his hoodie, arcing out behind him and lifting him up and up. He'd climbed, higher and higher above the island and he'd looked down on it and seen himself and Raina and everyone else who'd yet to check out, scattered out across the island like the chocolate chips on a cookie. Johnny'd lifted himself up into the sky and the people below had shrunk and shrunk until he couldn't make out who they were, yet higher still he risen until he couldn't see anyone, then until the island itself had vanished into the infinity of the sea. As the people below him had become noone and nothing and nowhere, he'd been free.
This was something Johnny'd done often, back in Kingman. Birds had always fascinated him, and he would frequently find himself distracted about his day upon seeing one, trying to imagine what their lives were like. To be able to go anywhere, do anything, not having to worry about study or work or the future but spending every day just flying and exploring and shitting on people's jackets - these were the things dreams were made of.
The sight of a bird was far better than that of a person, and Johnny imagined the world through his new, avian eyes. Birds were tetrachromats, with four cone cells instead of three, and could see many times more colours as a result. He pictured a world of rainbows, with the drab, grey sky replaced by a swirling panoply of hues. It was breathtaking he'd decided, as he'd closed his eyes and half-listened to Raina, his mind awander.
Johnny really should've been a bird, he decided. It was an egregious mistake on the part of is Creator, though Johnny resolved to let it slide if He had the mercy to let Johnny pass quickly. All this shit was only temporary anyway, right? How much did it really matter how he'd spent it, once he got out of the line and into the actual show, and it wasn't like he'd had to wait all that long, either - a hell of a lot of birds had to stick around a lot longer than he'd have to. One book her'd read said that eagles could hit a hundred.
Absent of thought, Johnny had drawn a cigarette and planted it like a sapling between his upturned lips. He'd given it plenty of light, and lo it did grow a veritable bounty of smoke. Eyes closed, Johnny inhaled deeply, holding the smoke in his lungs and trying to savour it.
How did you which cigarette would be your last? He didn't suppose you could.
Johnny was drawn from his flight of fancy by Raina's voice, sharp and insistent, and took him a moment to re-orientate himself, to figure out what it was she'd just said. The supply depot, right. He sat up and smiled, cigarette still hanging from his mouth, and gave a languid little nod and a half-arsed salute.
"Sure."
He drew himself up to her height and shouldered his bag.
"Lay on, MacDuff."
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Raina nodded once, short and to the point. "Let's get moving."
The clouds continued to roll in, and Raina took her first real steps out onto the island.
((Raina Rose and Johnny McKay continued in Demons Dance Alone))
The clouds continued to roll in, and Raina took her first real steps out onto the island.
((Raina Rose and Johnny McKay continued in Demons Dance Alone))
"Art enriches the community, Steve, no less than a pulsing fire hose, or a fireman beating down a blazing door. So what if we're drawing a nude man? So what if all we ever draw is a nude man, or the same nude man over and over in all sorts of provocative positions? Context, not content! Process, not subject! Don't be so gauche, Steve, it's beneath you."