Nope, it's not a dream. We're stuck with it.
Posted: Sat Jan 05, 2019 9:44 pm
Ben opened his eyes.
(Benjamin Lichter continues from Local Man Convicted Of Suicide)
He was lying on a bed in a rather nice room. The sun was starting to come up, but it was still quite dark. And the quiet, the quiet could make him believe there was nothing to worry about. No wind, no waves, no people. Just peace.
But that was foolish. Soon, there would be people around again. He had to get up.
He groaned, and sat up. Despite everything, he had had a good night's sleep for once. Sleeping on a mattress probably helped. His boot lay beside him, waiting for him to throw it at anybody who poked their head round the door. The shoes he had stolen lay on the floor beside the bed. He rubbed his eyes, and yawned. He grabbed his boot and started to scooch over to the edge of the bed, when he saw something: There was a camera in a corner of the room. Ben pulled his left leg up and grabbed his knee, letting his right arm and the boot swing beside the bed.
"So there you are," he said. He hadn't seen the camera when he had entered the room the previous night, but then again, he hardly ever saw them, ever though they were everywhere. He contemplated what else to say to it, but he realised that whatever he said to the terrorists would be seen by his mom, too. And his grandfather. Probably not Minnie, though.
So instead of talking, he raised his boot over his head and mimed throwing it at the camera, but tossed it onto the floor next to him instead. Then he turned, placed his feet on the ground and grabbed his bag, which lay on the floor beside the shoes. He took out his wallet and looked at the photo again, like he'd done so many times before.
He'd see them again, somehow. There was even a way he might manage it - the vague fragments of a plan that had been floating around his head the past few days were coalescing. But it was dangerous, difficult and needed a hell of a lot of luck. But it was the only thing that might work.
He decided he'd think about it some more before trying it. First, though, it was time for some food. He grabbed his bag again and put his wallet with the photo back in. Then he started to rummage about for some food. It took him a while to find a food bar, two of which were squished under the first aid kit, so he decided to take stock of what food he had left before eating.
Oh hell, he thought. He had taken out all the leftover food, and there wasn't much left. Those two food bars had been the only two left, and for the rest he had one tin of crackers left over and half a loaf of bread. To drink, there was only one bottle of water left. Which meant he had... he counted... only two days of of food and water left!
And he'd been here for six days already.
So he needed to be rescued or escape in two days, or find more food and water.
Or steal some.
Ben didn't answer that. Instead, he sat for a while, thinking what it might take to put his plan into action. Then he pulled on his shoes and left.
(Benjamin Lichter continues in On open ground, do not try to block the enemy's way.)
(Benjamin Lichter continues from Local Man Convicted Of Suicide)
He was lying on a bed in a rather nice room. The sun was starting to come up, but it was still quite dark. And the quiet, the quiet could make him believe there was nothing to worry about. No wind, no waves, no people. Just peace.
But that was foolish. Soon, there would be people around again. He had to get up.
He groaned, and sat up. Despite everything, he had had a good night's sleep for once. Sleeping on a mattress probably helped. His boot lay beside him, waiting for him to throw it at anybody who poked their head round the door. The shoes he had stolen lay on the floor beside the bed. He rubbed his eyes, and yawned. He grabbed his boot and started to scooch over to the edge of the bed, when he saw something: There was a camera in a corner of the room. Ben pulled his left leg up and grabbed his knee, letting his right arm and the boot swing beside the bed.
"So there you are," he said. He hadn't seen the camera when he had entered the room the previous night, but then again, he hardly ever saw them, ever though they were everywhere. He contemplated what else to say to it, but he realised that whatever he said to the terrorists would be seen by his mom, too. And his grandfather. Probably not Minnie, though.
So instead of talking, he raised his boot over his head and mimed throwing it at the camera, but tossed it onto the floor next to him instead. Then he turned, placed his feet on the ground and grabbed his bag, which lay on the floor beside the shoes. He took out his wallet and looked at the photo again, like he'd done so many times before.
He'd see them again, somehow. There was even a way he might manage it - the vague fragments of a plan that had been floating around his head the past few days were coalescing. But it was dangerous, difficult and needed a hell of a lot of luck. But it was the only thing that might work.
He decided he'd think about it some more before trying it. First, though, it was time for some food. He grabbed his bag again and put his wallet with the photo back in. Then he started to rummage about for some food. It took him a while to find a food bar, two of which were squished under the first aid kit, so he decided to take stock of what food he had left before eating.
Oh hell, he thought. He had taken out all the leftover food, and there wasn't much left. Those two food bars had been the only two left, and for the rest he had one tin of crackers left over and half a loaf of bread. To drink, there was only one bottle of water left. Which meant he had... he counted... only two days of of food and water left!
And he'd been here for six days already.
So he needed to be rescued or escape in two days, or find more food and water.
Or steal some.
Ben didn't answer that. Instead, he sat for a while, thinking what it might take to put his plan into action. Then he pulled on his shoes and left.
(Benjamin Lichter continues in On open ground, do not try to block the enemy's way.)