((Darlene Silva continued from I Was There Two!))
If the last time Darlene had come to the gardens had felt like the beautiful beginning of summer vacation, this was more like the very last weekend with school lurking on Monday morning and some assigned reading that had fallen by the wayside and now loomed up to swallow every last bit of idle peace. It wasn't a good feeling, but it wasn't precisely an awful one either. It was wistful, in a way, the sort of late morning she'd feel guilty about not enjoying more even back at home.
Now, of course, the guilt was more complicated. There were a lot of things for Darlene to feel sort of bad about. Arizona was, of course, the biggest. Abe was weighing on her too, her failure to understand and somehow avert the crumbling of their group, her fundamental misunderstanding of whatever had happened. It had always been tenuous, but while she was present the other two got along with each other, and that was something. She'd told herself they'd be fine if she wandered off, but they hadn't been at all. Nothing good had come from Darlene's detour, except she guessed that she'd managed to relieve herself and get better clothes on, but given someone had died and their group totally disintegrated that wasn't much consolation.
She was feeling bad about Christina, too, and specifically about the somewhat callous way she'd been thinking about the girl. It was really pretty easy to not care about people here, and Darlene had gotten good at it. It wasn't so tough to cut Stephanie loose, or to shoot at that boy with the chainsaw, or to trick Amelia into the prickly bushes. They were people Darlene kind of knew, by face and sometimes by name and reputation, but so what? Here they were going to die anyways, so they might as well not make her life harder and more painful on the way, right? And she'd been a lot better to Christina than to them, and she didn't feel that bad about the gun situation still (especially since Christina now had a pistol of her very own, even if Darlene wasn't totally sure it'd be any good), but when it came to her plan the situation was a little different.
If she'd run off to shoot herself over breakfast and left Christina and Abe together, it would've been awkward and with the benefit of hindsight she could see it might well have led the two of them to come to blows, but they would've still had something to cling to, someone to share the predicament, something besides just emptiness. But she hadn't adjusted the plan after Abe left. She'd kept right on with her march, stopped only by the fact that she hadn't actually won the food, and she knew if she had won it she would've ditched Christina just like Abe had ditched the both of them and run off to have her perfect final moments. And maybe—maybe!—she might've at the end realized she'd just left the girl entirely alone with no friends at all, but by then it would've been too late to do anything and that would've made it easier not to care, at least long enough to pull the trigger.
That wasn't what Jonah would've done, though. It wasn't what Max would've done. Christina was a little weird, and not really the sort of person Darlene would've probably ever hung out with on her own back at school, and they didn't have anything in common except that they both liked to read and both thought Gary Larson was hilarious. But that was actually more than had tied Darlene to Max and Jonah, and the boys had watched over her and listened to her and become her friends. They'd been good to her because they were themselves good, and maybe it was just where she was that was making that all crop back up so strongly, but she was sniffling now and then and it had nothing to do with pollen.
The devil's ivy was thick and made it hard to walk quickly, even compared to in the forest. It hadn't felt so tangled and wild here last time, but last time Darlene had been following, not sharing the lead. The flowers at least were still vibrant, blooms exploding from old planters and manicured patches and pots that had cracked and shattered where roots pressed against them and finally broke free. Birds of paradise seemed almost as tall as Darlene was, and the calla lilies flourished just off what passed for a path. She could reach out and pluck one if she wanted, and she did reach out and let the fingers of her left hand brush over them, felt the softly rubbery texture of leaves and petals. Her right hand still clutched the gun, loosely and casually now. She tried not to let herself forget its presence, but only found sporadic success.
She wasn't sure where they were going, precisely, or what they were doing. There was no grand plan. What was left was to just stay alive, she supposed, and enjoy the moments they had remaining, and try not to get into any trouble or have any more unfortunate accidents. They could chat. They could do their own things. Darlene was humming, now, just a little and very quietly, one of her favorites again: Christmas In Prison. She wasn't sure she'd be able to explain it if she was asked about it. She wasn't sure she'd want to.
It was only after a few minutes of bushwhacking their way through the tangles and around the planters and scattered wooden planks that must have blown off the bigger houses that Darlene realized something: this was right in the shadow of the house where they'd had the trial, all those days ago. Somehow, she'd become so disoriented she'd forgotten entirely, even last time she visited this place. Kelly was still out there somewhere, wasn't she? She'd killed Lucas and now there was nobody to keep her in check, and that was Darlene's fault too, wasn't it, since she'd been the defense attorney?
And then she realized precisely where she was heading on a more immediate scale, and pulled up short, and stopped humming mid-note. There was a wide, flat rock ahead, grey and smooth and with only a faint residual rust brown stain left after the rainfall yesterday. Darlene's heart hammered as she took in the fallen form beyond and let her eyes slide over it, and then they lit upon another body, and she felt even worse all of a sudden about Arizona, and not just for the obvious reason.
It was Michael lying there. Darlene knew him by the clothes, which was mostly what there was left to tell by because she couldn't see much of a face anymore. Michael was here with Jonah, had either never left or had returned or had been dragged back to this place by Arizona. He was here with Jonah, and Darlene's throat got tight and she wanted to cry because Arizona should've been here too, then. If she had to die, it should've been right here, in this place, and Darlene should've dragged her or something like she had Max, even though she knew it was completely impossible over such a long distance and wouldn't have made a difference to anyone anyways.
She took a step closer, Christina slipping her mind for just a moment, and sniffled, and gazed at the scene through smudged lenses but saw only ghosts.
I'll Probably Get Homesick, I Love You, Goodnight
Private and also this may get a little funky/get edited much more than my norm because we've got a key played with no net for a few days.
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MurderWeasel
- Posts: 2566
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 1:37 am
((erika stieglitz continued from visceral reality))
By now one didn’t hear as many faint screams joining the island’s natural chorus. Few distant gunshots cut through the din of tropical birds and buzzing insects; at least, not nearly as many as the first few days. The wind had died down, and with it the ever-present sound of rustling leaves. While it wasn’t exactly quiet, a certain stillness had fallen over the island.
On the way south, the only constant reminder of humanity seemed to be the bodies strewn about the paths winding through the woodlands. Some were visible on the periphery of the route Erika took, others were evident only by the waxing and waning smell of decay. She didn’t care to linger over any of the corpses. There was no time for pride, remorse, or disgust. Indifference was the best she could do, and even that managed to fail her more often than she could handle. Acceptance, maybe. At this point she knew where she stood, relative to them. Their deaths sustained her, the ones she killed and those she hadn't. She continued, and they were left to rot.
She envied the worms. They had no choice but to take and consume without feeling, without even the ability to question why. Simpler creatures, engineered over millennia to do so efficiently, had no hint of some burdensome inner world. The fungi and bacteria that broke down the dead had no need for feeling. The bugs had no idea what the flesh they tore apart in their mandibles used to be, because it was only food to them. Little pieces of a possible future, stripped away and used up for a different one. Things weren’t so simple for a person. Self-awareness brought with it the implicit understanding that other people were full of as many contradictions and complexities as you were. Empathy was so hardwired, people even projected it onto things that weren’t human, assuming that there must be an inner world behind an appropriately similar set of eyes.
Looking at the others as silhouettes, as obstacles, as prey; it took practice, and focus. It took more than she wanted to give, and left her with little aside from the breaths she continued to take. Erika wondered if what she was feeling was an acute lack of humanity, or some other necessary part of it she hadn’t had the context to consider before. The answer had failed to present itself, so far. All she knew to do now was to try and embody a nature that didn’t bother to clean the blood from its claws and teeth. It was hard to argue she hadn’t been successful, by this point. No one would imagine that, after all of this, cutting down her peers at every turn wasn’t innately part of her nature.
Erika paused mid step, mid thought, at the edge of the Gardens.
I have no peers.
For a split second, something resembling a smile spread across her face.
The Gardens were far more open than the woods she’d come from, and instinct pushed her towards the nearest source of cover: a dilapidated, overgrown planter box. Falling too quickly to her knee, she found herself cursing through gritted teeth as a spasm of pain ran up her wounded leg. Much as she wanted to feel anything else, she tried to see it as something of a reminder. The cost of making another mistake was too high to bear. The last time she’d been here, she left with a pellet of buckshot in her leg and her primary weapon rendered effectively useless. Tanisha’s group had used smoke grenades to protect themselves, and it rendered the advantages Erika possessed at the time essentially moot. She’d underestimated them.
Things were different now. She’d nearly lost herself, and found new advantages where she’d lost others. Her current arsenal mostly made up for the loss of the PSG-1. The collar radar was an edge like nothing else. In some ways she knew she was more resolved now than she had been during that confrontation nearly a week prior.
It...
It didn't seem like it was a week ago.
Was it?
Erika shook her head, not allowing herself to indulge old fears and uncertainties. Instead, she turned her attention to her next move. She adjusted the sling on the Martini-Henry, looping it around the back of her neck for support. There would be others here, it was just a mater of finding them. The Manor House was an obvious place to try and fortify or take cover, with high vantage points and a central location in one of the only remaining open areas. That also made it something of a deathtrap, and she half-expected to find it utterly deserted.
Now able to cradle the rifle in one hand, she reached with the other for the collar radar. Two dots registered on the radar’s screen, just at the edge of its range.
This place was so humid it was almost difficult to tell when her hands were clamming up. The racing of her heart wasn’t nearly so ambiguous. Tightly closing her eyes, she forced slow, steady breaths. Even now, it was still so easy for her mind to wander to thoughts of what might be waiting for her on the other side. Considering what they might have been armed with. What they might be willing to do. What she might not be willing to do.
I’m not like you.
Erika exhaled, and opened her eyes. The island remained still. Her hands weren’t shaking. They were steady. They were experienced. The Garden reeked of death, but the sour smell didn’t make her feel nauseated anymore. She felt alone, distant from herself and from all of the bodies she’d left in her wake. In this context, standing alone felt like reason enough not to be afraid. Ascertaining a heading from the radar’s screen, she pocketed the device and rose to her feet. After pausing for a moment to let the pain in her leg subside once more, before moving on.
Amidst the overgrown foliage and dilapidated structures, there were plenty of places from which to stage her attack. If she was lucky, there would be enough open space to attack at range. Slowly, Erika closed the distance between herself and where her targets were supposed to be. They didn't seem to be on the move either, which was something of a relief. Chasing down Zach a day earlier had paid dues in the steps she took now; trying to follow up that attempt with a second run-down felt doomed to fail. Encountering a partially-collapsed archway overgrown with ivy, she took position behind it and peered out towards a clearing, finally getting a look at her quarry.
These two, again?
She'd seen them before, days ago. At the time they were seemingly in some sort of alliance with Abe, who was mercifully absent, along with his P90. Their names escaped her. One of the two of them liked to sing. They'd briefly exchanged gunfire after Erika had failed to take out Abe. For a moment, her eyes darted to the nearby plants, searching for anything with too many legs. Aside from her skin, nothing seemed to crawl.
After watching for a time, Erika slowly raised the Martini-Henry and braced it against her shoulder. She fell still, the way she’d done so many times before. This time, she barely realized she was doing it; it came naturally.
The girl in her sights wasn’t singing, now. She was staring down at a set of bodies, nearby. Erika tried to deliberately avoid making out the expression the girl was wearing. What demanded her attention more was the revolver hanging limply in the girl's hand. Erika doubted her ability to use it to any effect at this range, but it was enough to make her the first target. When Erika did finally catch a glimpse of the expression on her face, she knew to a certainty she'd picked the right one to shoot first.
“I’m not like you.”
Erika's finger gently came to a rest on the trigger.
((Christina Rennes continued from You Gotta Roll With It, You Gotta Take Your Time))
Two things that Christina had learned: first, that the all the ammo she was packing was the exact same. That was a fucking relief. She could rest slightly easier know that she had quite a few more magazines of ammo. It made her regret not taking that other gun a little less - she couldn't go back for it now that the area it was in was locked off, and she'd forgotten about it during the bullshit with the bear trap.
Second, she was most definitely not as prepared to see a corpse as she'd thought. This was numbers four and five. At least with Arjen, she could say "wait till he's warm and dead." With Sakurako, Christina had been distracted by the bear trap. She'd seen some other guy lying on top of a body or something - his face was recognizable as a face, even if there was some extra ventilation where his brains were. But Jonah was ripe, and the other guy, well, that's all she knew about it. At least the other four had faces. This one looked like his face had been sublimated. It nearly made her retch. It did make her look away.
"So, uh, Darlene. You were with Arizona, right? Did you happen to notice what weapons she'd picked up?" It was a bit macabre, maybe a bit tactless, but it was better than watching these guys decompose.
Two things that Christina had learned: first, that the all the ammo she was packing was the exact same. That was a fucking relief. She could rest slightly easier know that she had quite a few more magazines of ammo. It made her regret not taking that other gun a little less - she couldn't go back for it now that the area it was in was locked off, and she'd forgotten about it during the bullshit with the bear trap.
Second, she was most definitely not as prepared to see a corpse as she'd thought. This was numbers four and five. At least with Arjen, she could say "wait till he's warm and dead." With Sakurako, Christina had been distracted by the bear trap. She'd seen some other guy lying on top of a body or something - his face was recognizable as a face, even if there was some extra ventilation where his brains were. But Jonah was ripe, and the other guy, well, that's all she knew about it. At least the other four had faces. This one looked like his face had been sublimated. It nearly made her retch. It did make her look away.
"So, uh, Darlene. You were with Arizona, right? Did you happen to notice what weapons she'd picked up?" It was a bit macabre, maybe a bit tactless, but it was better than watching these guys decompose.
Survivor: UCONN - Seriously, it's awesome!
Version 8
Kaede Tsurumi: "Eeep! I-I'm so sorry! I-I'll try not to get in your w-way next time!"
Morgan Whitney
Tyler Slomkowski
Victor Grail: "I didn't give you the lead so that you could lose it! I guess it's up to me to carry us after all."
Version 8
Kaede Tsurumi: "Eeep! I-I'm so sorry! I-I'll try not to get in your w-way next time!"
Morgan Whitney
Tyler Slomkowski
Victor Grail: "I didn't give you the lead so that you could lose it! I guess it's up to me to carry us after all."
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MurderWeasel
- Posts: 2566
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 1:37 am
The question shook Darlene from the reverie that was threatening to engulf her, and she was grateful for that, even if the topic was unfortunately close to her own darker musings of moments ago. She had been with Arizona, yes. Christina had been pretty blasé about that, and about what that interaction had ended up as in general, but it was hard to blame the girl. Abe had done something that sounded just as bad, or maybe even worse, and he'd laughed at the trap and left them in the woods. Darlene hadn't. She'd helped, and she'd tried to be like the boy lying not so far from her now always was, and so was it really so strange to get the same sort of credit she'd given him? Darlene hadn't questioned for one moment anybody Arizona had shot, and that was only transitive trust!
It was just, she happened to know that unlike Jonah she didn't deserve that benefit of the doubt. She'd messed up and someone had died, and there were two different times at least that description fit, and that was only touching when she actively pulled the trigger. Count other sorts of messing up, and she was at four, five, more? Max and the cave was one, and Jonah and Michael was another (and the one most present on her mind here where it had happened with the ivy and the lilies pressing in), and then it had been her idea to leave Kelly with Lucas and how had that worked out for them?
"Yeah," Darlene said. It wasn't just being taken by surprise that made her say it, either, though the thought of lying that there hadn't been any weapons left did briefly cross her mind. But Christina might figure it out, and besides, what would it matter? It was all done. There was no going back. And the girl was the last one left, and so she deserved the truth.
"She had a, these two big rifles. One was old and one looked like a space gun," Darlene said. She could remember how they'd felt, how heavy they were, how awkward to carry. Like a gun caddie. It was the only thought that had almost made her smile then, and it almost did now too. She could remember just where she'd tossed each of them away. "Also two pistols, an old one and, and the gun Jonah had when we were all together."
She hadn't told Christina that whole story either. The first excuse that came to mind was there hadn't been time, but that wasn't true. There'd been so much time. Darlene was always on the lookout for moments, but they rolled past and over her faster than she could even keep track of. She could've probably told Christina every single interesting thing in her entire life she could remember in the days they'd traveled together. She didn't even know if she'd mentioned she'd been in this place before.
The bugs made their chirps and chitters and even though they weren't any louder than they'd been at any previous point it felt like they were all around Darlene, swelling up and burying her, making it hard for her to force her words out audibly.
"She, when Arizona died, she told—she asked me to throw them away, except Jonah's. So I, I did. In the woods, I took them apart and I wrecked the pieces and it's a danger zone now."
Christina wasn't going to like that. Darlene didn't need to have exchanged life stories with the girl to figure that out. And she felt good about what she'd done, even now! It was right and it was what Arizona wanted and it meant something, but still this wave of guilt and nervousness swelled, as she shifted back and forth from ball of foot to ball of foot.
It was just, she happened to know that unlike Jonah she didn't deserve that benefit of the doubt. She'd messed up and someone had died, and there were two different times at least that description fit, and that was only touching when she actively pulled the trigger. Count other sorts of messing up, and she was at four, five, more? Max and the cave was one, and Jonah and Michael was another (and the one most present on her mind here where it had happened with the ivy and the lilies pressing in), and then it had been her idea to leave Kelly with Lucas and how had that worked out for them?
"Yeah," Darlene said. It wasn't just being taken by surprise that made her say it, either, though the thought of lying that there hadn't been any weapons left did briefly cross her mind. But Christina might figure it out, and besides, what would it matter? It was all done. There was no going back. And the girl was the last one left, and so she deserved the truth.
"She had a, these two big rifles. One was old and one looked like a space gun," Darlene said. She could remember how they'd felt, how heavy they were, how awkward to carry. Like a gun caddie. It was the only thought that had almost made her smile then, and it almost did now too. She could remember just where she'd tossed each of them away. "Also two pistols, an old one and, and the gun Jonah had when we were all together."
She hadn't told Christina that whole story either. The first excuse that came to mind was there hadn't been time, but that wasn't true. There'd been so much time. Darlene was always on the lookout for moments, but they rolled past and over her faster than she could even keep track of. She could've probably told Christina every single interesting thing in her entire life she could remember in the days they'd traveled together. She didn't even know if she'd mentioned she'd been in this place before.
The bugs made their chirps and chitters and even though they weren't any louder than they'd been at any previous point it felt like they were all around Darlene, swelling up and burying her, making it hard for her to force her words out audibly.
"She, when Arizona died, she told—she asked me to throw them away, except Jonah's. So I, I did. In the woods, I took them apart and I wrecked the pieces and it's a danger zone now."
Christina wasn't going to like that. Darlene didn't need to have exchanged life stories with the girl to figure that out. And she felt good about what she'd done, even now! It was right and it was what Arizona wanted and it meant something, but still this wave of guilt and nervousness swelled, as she shifted back and forth from ball of foot to ball of foot.
That was fucking stupid. At this stage in the game (read: during the game) disposing of a weapon was the dumbest thing one could do. Christina knew, in her heart of hearts, that if she'd been with Arizona at her death rather than Darlene, she'd have waited for Arizona to kick it, then take the guns with her. If it was anyone else, Christina would have launched into a swear filled tirade. Anyone else would have been completely retarded to even consider ditching a gun for any reason other than their own immediate death to make sure nobody else had it.
But, it was Darlene. Someone who had actually bothered to stick by her. So Christina just raised her hands.
"Okay. I admit, I would've kept the guns in your situation. This close to the end, with Blaise and Erika ..." Christina took a second to suppress a shudder. "But, you did what you thought was right, and I can't fault you for it." That was a lie. She most certainly could have faulted Darlene for that. She just wasn't going to.
But, it was Darlene. Someone who had actually bothered to stick by her. So Christina just raised her hands.
"Okay. I admit, I would've kept the guns in your situation. This close to the end, with Blaise and Erika ..." Christina took a second to suppress a shudder. "But, you did what you thought was right, and I can't fault you for it." That was a lie. She most certainly could have faulted Darlene for that. She just wasn't going to.
Survivor: UCONN - Seriously, it's awesome!
Version 8
Kaede Tsurumi: "Eeep! I-I'm so sorry! I-I'll try not to get in your w-way next time!"
Morgan Whitney
Tyler Slomkowski
Victor Grail: "I didn't give you the lead so that you could lose it! I guess it's up to me to carry us after all."
Version 8
Kaede Tsurumi: "Eeep! I-I'm so sorry! I-I'll try not to get in your w-way next time!"
Morgan Whitney
Tyler Slomkowski
Victor Grail: "I didn't give you the lead so that you could lose it! I guess it's up to me to carry us after all."
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MurderWeasel
- Posts: 2566
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 1:37 am
Darlene took a breath, and it was more normal a process than she'd expected it to be. This was okay. Her throat wasn't too agonizingly tight. Christina wasn't happy, which was not unexpected, but she was letting it go. She didn't really have a choice, given the location of the abandoned guns and the girls' total inability to do anything to retrieve them, but she did have options in how she approached her disappointment, and her choice was to be gentle. Darlene had gotten worse scoldings from Jonah, even, though granted for rather significantly greater misdeeds.
She was still trying to kind of not think too terribly hard about Jonah being more present in a physical way than he had in a while. Darlene wasn't looking at him directly, ever, but she let her peripheral vision take him in. Caught from the corner of her eye, he might have been relaxing in the sun. She couldn't make out his features, just the general distinction between head and torso and limbs. The blue hair helped. She was pretty nearsighted and her glasses didn't do anything for her things that weren't in front of her, so she lets the blurs evoke different ideas, even when she knew they weren't true. She couldn't see Jonah's eyes, so now he was wearing sunglasses in her mind. It seemed like a thing he'd do, because sunglasses were for cool people, right? Darlene's parents had bought her prescription sunglasses back when she was thirteen or fourteen, and she'd never worn them, not even once! She didn't really know how much money it had been, but she assumed a lot because that was how glasses worked. They just sat too far forward on her nose, though, and threw her vision out of focus, and she didn't go out when it was super bright that much anyways.
"Sorry," Darlene mumbled to Christina, because that seemed like a good thing to express. She wasn't sorry at all that she'd dumped the weapons, but she was sorry to disappoint her last remaining companion, so it wasn't a pure lie.
The gardens were hot and muggy and while the dampness wasn't so bad as yesterday, there was still a heaviness to the air that pressed in on Darlene. She half wanted to swap back to the black t-shirt just because her blouse was so sticky and sweaty now, but all of her clothes were completely soaked through by days and days of sweat. She couldn't smell herself anymore at all, and could barely even detect the other odors floating around. Perhaps olfactory sensation only came to mind here and now because it was a bit different in this place. There was the omnipresent rot and decay and death that settled over everything, but here it was cut with a distinct floral sweetness, and it was enough to remind her that dying was part of life too. The plants all around them couldn't exist without a whole system of insects and microbes and all kinds of things she barely understood even when looking at pictures of them on her computer, all eating things that were no more.
Still, this was not the specific place they should be resting. It was too much, too heavy and too likely her gaze drifted at the wrong moment.
"I, I think there's another good place to sit nearby," Darlene said, which wasn't quite true but she remembered running through some nice flat open places without bodies when she was fleeing Michael. "Right this—"
As she turned and took a step, two things happened in immediate succession. The first was that Darlene's right foot didn't lift up like she wanted it to. She'd been shuffling her feet unconsciously yet again, and had wound the devil's ivy all around her ankle and toes, and it pulled against her in a hard and unexpected enough manner to throw her completely off balance and send her crashing and flailing to the ground.
The second was that an explosive echo rolled through the area and a cluster of plants behind where Darlene had just been was shredded. There was a muted cacophony as all the birds nearby took flight at once. Darlene lay in the dirt for only a second, but it could've been an entire hour. Her ears were ringing. Her wrists hurt from partially absorbing the impact, and her right hand had been mashed into the grip of the gun. All she saw was green and a flash of blue. Her breathing was oddly even and normal at first, as her mind failed to catch up to what had happened.
Then it all snapped into place. They were under attack, yet again, from someone unseen. Darlene jolted and surged forward, going from a prone position to hands and knees to a crouched run so quick she couldn't fully parse it herself.
"Come on," she yelled behind her, to Christina, as she glanced around, looking for whoever was after them, ready to shoot back but not to do so blind, not again, but there was nobody she could see.
The seconds it took her to duck behind a large planter seemed unending, especially when a second shot kicked up a crater in the dirt. Moments later, though, Darlene's back slammed against the rough concrete with her bag bouncing against her leg, even as her breathing kicked into overdrive. She clutched the revolver in shaking hands. Ahead of her was a knot of thick bush, the same dense foliage Michael had watched and then emerged from. On the other side of the planter, open space, Jonah, Michael, and their assailant.
"Christina?" Darlene shouted, though she didn't sound so loud to herself, "Are you okay?"
She was still trying to kind of not think too terribly hard about Jonah being more present in a physical way than he had in a while. Darlene wasn't looking at him directly, ever, but she let her peripheral vision take him in. Caught from the corner of her eye, he might have been relaxing in the sun. She couldn't make out his features, just the general distinction between head and torso and limbs. The blue hair helped. She was pretty nearsighted and her glasses didn't do anything for her things that weren't in front of her, so she lets the blurs evoke different ideas, even when she knew they weren't true. She couldn't see Jonah's eyes, so now he was wearing sunglasses in her mind. It seemed like a thing he'd do, because sunglasses were for cool people, right? Darlene's parents had bought her prescription sunglasses back when she was thirteen or fourteen, and she'd never worn them, not even once! She didn't really know how much money it had been, but she assumed a lot because that was how glasses worked. They just sat too far forward on her nose, though, and threw her vision out of focus, and she didn't go out when it was super bright that much anyways.
"Sorry," Darlene mumbled to Christina, because that seemed like a good thing to express. She wasn't sorry at all that she'd dumped the weapons, but she was sorry to disappoint her last remaining companion, so it wasn't a pure lie.
The gardens were hot and muggy and while the dampness wasn't so bad as yesterday, there was still a heaviness to the air that pressed in on Darlene. She half wanted to swap back to the black t-shirt just because her blouse was so sticky and sweaty now, but all of her clothes were completely soaked through by days and days of sweat. She couldn't smell herself anymore at all, and could barely even detect the other odors floating around. Perhaps olfactory sensation only came to mind here and now because it was a bit different in this place. There was the omnipresent rot and decay and death that settled over everything, but here it was cut with a distinct floral sweetness, and it was enough to remind her that dying was part of life too. The plants all around them couldn't exist without a whole system of insects and microbes and all kinds of things she barely understood even when looking at pictures of them on her computer, all eating things that were no more.
Still, this was not the specific place they should be resting. It was too much, too heavy and too likely her gaze drifted at the wrong moment.
"I, I think there's another good place to sit nearby," Darlene said, which wasn't quite true but she remembered running through some nice flat open places without bodies when she was fleeing Michael. "Right this—"
As she turned and took a step, two things happened in immediate succession. The first was that Darlene's right foot didn't lift up like she wanted it to. She'd been shuffling her feet unconsciously yet again, and had wound the devil's ivy all around her ankle and toes, and it pulled against her in a hard and unexpected enough manner to throw her completely off balance and send her crashing and flailing to the ground.
The second was that an explosive echo rolled through the area and a cluster of plants behind where Darlene had just been was shredded. There was a muted cacophony as all the birds nearby took flight at once. Darlene lay in the dirt for only a second, but it could've been an entire hour. Her ears were ringing. Her wrists hurt from partially absorbing the impact, and her right hand had been mashed into the grip of the gun. All she saw was green and a flash of blue. Her breathing was oddly even and normal at first, as her mind failed to catch up to what had happened.
Then it all snapped into place. They were under attack, yet again, from someone unseen. Darlene jolted and surged forward, going from a prone position to hands and knees to a crouched run so quick she couldn't fully parse it herself.
"Come on," she yelled behind her, to Christina, as she glanced around, looking for whoever was after them, ready to shoot back but not to do so blind, not again, but there was nobody she could see.
The seconds it took her to duck behind a large planter seemed unending, especially when a second shot kicked up a crater in the dirt. Moments later, though, Darlene's back slammed against the rough concrete with her bag bouncing against her leg, even as her breathing kicked into overdrive. She clutched the revolver in shaking hands. Ahead of her was a knot of thick bush, the same dense foliage Michael had watched and then emerged from. On the other side of the planter, open space, Jonah, Michael, and their assailant.
"Christina?" Darlene shouted, though she didn't sound so loud to herself, "Are you okay?"
Darlene apologized. It was one of the biggest breaks she'd had over the course of the game, even if Darlene was only going through the motions. So, Christina just nodded along as Darlene tried to guide her to a good sitting place. "Tried" being the operative word. She tripped over some plants or something and ended up falling flat on her face. Christina took a step
BANG
Come on, another gunshot? It had missed her, thank God, but still. Christina bolted to the nearest hiding spot, given the general direction of where the shot came from. She could still see Darlene from where she was, who was also unhurt (well, at least physically).
"Yeah." Christina answered Darlene's question. "Didn't tag me." She grunted. "Does it seem that everyone's after us for some stupid reason?" Other than to be the last left, but still.
BANG
Come on, another gunshot? It had missed her, thank God, but still. Christina bolted to the nearest hiding spot, given the general direction of where the shot came from. She could still see Darlene from where she was, who was also unhurt (well, at least physically).
"Yeah." Christina answered Darlene's question. "Didn't tag me." She grunted. "Does it seem that everyone's after us for some stupid reason?" Other than to be the last left, but still.
Survivor: UCONN - Seriously, it's awesome!
Version 8
Kaede Tsurumi: "Eeep! I-I'm so sorry! I-I'll try not to get in your w-way next time!"
Morgan Whitney
Tyler Slomkowski
Victor Grail: "I didn't give you the lead so that you could lose it! I guess it's up to me to carry us after all."
Version 8
Kaede Tsurumi: "Eeep! I-I'm so sorry! I-I'll try not to get in your w-way next time!"
Morgan Whitney
Tyler Slomkowski
Victor Grail: "I didn't give you the lead so that you could lose it! I guess it's up to me to carry us after all."
-
MurderWeasel
- Posts: 2566
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 1:37 am
A few times in her life, Darlene had gotten stuck somewhere between taking big, slow, gulping gasps of air and hyperventilating. It averaged out to something that still in no way approximated normal respiration. Still, it left her clearer and calmer than either extreme might have.
Christina was alright, which was something. She was alright enough to make a crack about it, even, always unflappable and spirited, even with a bear trap clamped around her hand. She hadn't made it quite as far as Darlene had, huddling behind the rock instead. She was just about where Darlene had fallen herself days ago, in fact, back when it was Michael coming after them. At least that had been a reason, even if it wasn't one she understood or thought was right. This was just, just...
It wasn't fair. It was too much, and Darlene was tired, and Christina was all she had left and that could change at any moment even. She didn't want this. She didn't want to be scared forever, to run from one fight to another with someone always right on her heels, snatching away anything good. She didn't want to see more friends die. Not a single one. Not Christina. It was enough. It had been enough long ago, and Darlene just wanted it to be over. She wanted to have won the prize, to have gotten her sandwich and shot herself and to not have to deal with any of this. She wanted to be strong, and useful, and not the sort of person who shot Jonah's girlfriend by mistake. She wanted to be like those who had fallen before her, she wanted to...
The cement scraping against her back, pressing and pulling on the ratty bandages barely clinging to her head, brought a moment of abrupt focus. Darlene couldn't see Jonah from here, but she didn't need to. He was nearby. He would've known what to do, but actually there was more: he had known what to do. It had been hard and scary for both of them, and maybe it hadn't ended how he would've hoped if he'd known, but he had been put to the test and had done something incredible, and in so doing he had helped Darlene one last time.
Her hands were steady, now, as she tugged her bag open. She dropped the revolver in, landing amidst its own loose ammunition, and pulled free instead Jonah's gun. The golden pistol looked bigger, stronger, more impressive. It looked like the sort of thing she would use to really get serious in a fight, maybe, if she viewed it how Christina might see it. It was a good thing she hadn't mentioned that it was unloaded. That might make this next part harder to sell.
The plan was clear. The shots had come one at a time, but whoever was firing was dealing with two targets. Forced to pick, what was higher priority? A girl running away, or one sticking around with a gun of her own in hand?
Darlene zipped the duffel bag up, laid Jonah's gun on the ground, and then with both hands hurled the bag from where she was huddling to where Christina was. It landed heavily a few inches from the girl's feet, not the nicest aim Darlene had ever had with anything but better than she'd expected. Enough. There was no time. This had to work.
It would, though. She was oddly unconcerned about it.
"Run," she yelled at the other girl. "Take the things. Stay low, move through—through the bushes. I'll... I'll meet you in an hour. Go now."
Christina was alright, which was something. She was alright enough to make a crack about it, even, always unflappable and spirited, even with a bear trap clamped around her hand. She hadn't made it quite as far as Darlene had, huddling behind the rock instead. She was just about where Darlene had fallen herself days ago, in fact, back when it was Michael coming after them. At least that had been a reason, even if it wasn't one she understood or thought was right. This was just, just...
It wasn't fair. It was too much, and Darlene was tired, and Christina was all she had left and that could change at any moment even. She didn't want this. She didn't want to be scared forever, to run from one fight to another with someone always right on her heels, snatching away anything good. She didn't want to see more friends die. Not a single one. Not Christina. It was enough. It had been enough long ago, and Darlene just wanted it to be over. She wanted to have won the prize, to have gotten her sandwich and shot herself and to not have to deal with any of this. She wanted to be strong, and useful, and not the sort of person who shot Jonah's girlfriend by mistake. She wanted to be like those who had fallen before her, she wanted to...
The cement scraping against her back, pressing and pulling on the ratty bandages barely clinging to her head, brought a moment of abrupt focus. Darlene couldn't see Jonah from here, but she didn't need to. He was nearby. He would've known what to do, but actually there was more: he had known what to do. It had been hard and scary for both of them, and maybe it hadn't ended how he would've hoped if he'd known, but he had been put to the test and had done something incredible, and in so doing he had helped Darlene one last time.
Her hands were steady, now, as she tugged her bag open. She dropped the revolver in, landing amidst its own loose ammunition, and pulled free instead Jonah's gun. The golden pistol looked bigger, stronger, more impressive. It looked like the sort of thing she would use to really get serious in a fight, maybe, if she viewed it how Christina might see it. It was a good thing she hadn't mentioned that it was unloaded. That might make this next part harder to sell.
The plan was clear. The shots had come one at a time, but whoever was firing was dealing with two targets. Forced to pick, what was higher priority? A girl running away, or one sticking around with a gun of her own in hand?
Darlene zipped the duffel bag up, laid Jonah's gun on the ground, and then with both hands hurled the bag from where she was huddling to where Christina was. It landed heavily a few inches from the girl's feet, not the nicest aim Darlene had ever had with anything but better than she'd expected. Enough. There was no time. This had to work.
It would, though. She was oddly unconcerned about it.
"Run," she yelled at the other girl. "Take the things. Stay low, move through—through the bushes. I'll... I'll meet you in an hour. Go now."
Wait, what the fuck was Darlene doing? Did she really think that attempting to take down whomever it was would work? Okay, she had a gun, but it might be better to run for it. Of course, this was coming from somebody who actually could run a half mile in a reasonable period of time. She thought about it, and there were two things in her mind. It was between her loyalty and her self-preservation ... and self preservation won out.
She scooped up the bag, nodded to Darlene, and ran like hell, trying to make an impression of Jessica.
((Christina Rennes continued in In and Out My Brain, Running Through My Vein))
She scooped up the bag, nodded to Darlene, and ran like hell, trying to make an impression of Jessica.
((Christina Rennes continued in In and Out My Brain, Running Through My Vein))
Survivor: UCONN - Seriously, it's awesome!
Version 8
Kaede Tsurumi: "Eeep! I-I'm so sorry! I-I'll try not to get in your w-way next time!"
Morgan Whitney
Tyler Slomkowski
Victor Grail: "I didn't give you the lead so that you could lose it! I guess it's up to me to carry us after all."
Version 8
Kaede Tsurumi: "Eeep! I-I'm so sorry! I-I'll try not to get in your w-way next time!"
Morgan Whitney
Tyler Slomkowski
Victor Grail: "I didn't give you the lead so that you could lose it! I guess it's up to me to carry us after all."
*ping*
Before noting that she had missed, Erika had already ejected a brass case and was in the process of loading another. At this point it would’ve been stupid not to follow through on every single one. She’d taken too many missed shots. Seen too many people going down and not fading out right away. Erika had no intention of repeating anyone else’s mistakes, or her own.
Nothing had been fired back yet, though Erika figured neither of them had seen her just yet. The smoke only gave her last position away, but not her current one. They might have been conserving ammunition, too. That they were doing neither was also quite possible. Either they were smart, or terrified. It could have been both, as much as Erika hoped it was only the latter.
The rifle had many disadvantages. One shot at a time was slower than she was comfortable with. Still, it forced her to be methodical in her attack. Take her time. Calculate. It left no room for anything else to cross her mind. It reminded her of the range, a little bit. Someone told her that it was what psychologists called a flow state. She thought she liked it.
Noting the tip of a shoe sticking out from behind a concrete planter, Erika could tell at least the singing girl hadn’t moved. To her frustration, there was no sign of the other. Erika fired another shot, which hammered into the concrete planter, showering chunks of debris across the ground.
It wasn’t meant to hit true; Erika just needed the two of them to stay down, unable to fire back, until she could close the distance between them and make a better shot.
*ping*
She did so, pressing herself up against the remains of another shattered garden planter before loading a fresh cartridge into the rifle. The planter was only at waist-height, she had to crouch down to take cover. It hurt. Erika noticed, but no part of her seemed to need to react.
Nothing was coming back by now. No shouting, or wild shooting in her vague direction. Keeping her eyes fixed on the position of the other girl, she took her hand off of the foregrip of the rifle and reached down to the collar radar sticking out of her pocket. Fumbling to draw it out, she took only a moment to glance downwards at it. The one signature hadn’t moved - the other was booking it away from the Gardens, fast.
“Fuck.”
Erika had been hoping to take them both. This was so close to being over. It was a concern for later, but still frustrating. With any luck, the girl would stumble into another situation, one she couldn’t run from. If not, Erika knew she had more than enough ammunition left to create that situation.
Pocketing the collar radar without switching it off, Erika took hold of the rifle again. Her first attempt to get up failed, waves of pain breaking through the cloud of adrenaline that had concealed them before. The second attempt was interrupted by a response she didn’t expect to receive.
-
MurderWeasel
- Posts: 2566
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 1:37 am
As Christina took off, weaving her way through the obstacles of the garden and bounding past the ivy that snatched at her feet to disappear into the dense foliage, Darlene held her breath, but she wasn't able to keep it up for very long. Everything was just too tense. Her heart was banging in overtime, the old familiar pulsing pain that brought to her injuries back in force, and all she could find the focus for was hope that the other girl would make it. If she didn't—if she was hit and went down in a screaming pile of blood and mangled limbs—then there really was nothing left, and Darlene might as well have just shot the both of them herself. Maybe she still would be able to opt out under her own agency, if she raced to the corpse and pried the revolver back. It wouldn't matter either way.
A few seconds after Christina's flight began, Darlene popped her head up over the planter and pointed Jonah's gun in the rough direction the shots had come from, but only for a brief second before pulling back to relative safety. She had to be convincing, had to suggest that she was still armed and ready to start firing away at a moment's notice, had to keep their assailant's head down until it was too late to nab both of them.
Darlene was no actress, and she'd taken the clip out of Jonah's gun back in the woods, leaving a hole in the handle and a bigger one in any hopes she had of actually seriously inconveniencing their attacker. It was okay, though. She'd mused back then that Jonah hadn't shot the gun except as practice, and that it was because he hadn't needed to. The golden pistol became a tool, not a weapon, and in that capacity it continued to serve admirably. Still, it felt odd in her hands, a little bit wrong. Even without bullets, it weighed more than the revolver had. It was bulky, garish, confident in a way Darlene didn't think she'd even been and certainly didn't have much time left to become. She was glad there were no bullets. She couldn't imagine how hard it would've kicked had she tried to fire it.
Christina was gone, now, out of sight and earshot if still very present in her mind. No sniper fire had torn the girl's legs from under her. Nobody had ambushed her, or killed her, unless they'd done so in total silence. A ringing echoed in Darlene's ears, still, the lingering spirit not only of these most recent gunshots but of all the others that had pierced her eardrums in this place, from the small discharges of her revolver to the giant explosion that had almost killed Sakurako. Aside from that, the air in the garden was motionless and heavy. The insects had briefly halted their chirps and chatterings, but it did not take them long to resume. The flowers trembled ever so slightly on their stalks. There were no birds now. They'd all taken flight at the first salvo.
It was an alright moment. It was one that felt timeless already, a golden afternoon that could stretch for minutes, for hours. Every second it endured was another that Christina had to put distance between her and their attacker. Assuming, of course, that that unknown was even still here. Darlene's throat got somehow tighter at the idea that she'd be the one left alone again, that Christina would be hunted down and picked off while she cowered and then whoever it was would come back for her.
There was very little she could do. She'd accepted that. But that wasn't the same as nothing. With one deep, painful inhalation, Darlene bid farewell to the quiet, and forced her vocal cords back into action, and then she hollered out as loud as she still could.
"Hey, you? You—are you still out there?"
A pause.
"I want to talk to you."
A few seconds after Christina's flight began, Darlene popped her head up over the planter and pointed Jonah's gun in the rough direction the shots had come from, but only for a brief second before pulling back to relative safety. She had to be convincing, had to suggest that she was still armed and ready to start firing away at a moment's notice, had to keep their assailant's head down until it was too late to nab both of them.
Darlene was no actress, and she'd taken the clip out of Jonah's gun back in the woods, leaving a hole in the handle and a bigger one in any hopes she had of actually seriously inconveniencing their attacker. It was okay, though. She'd mused back then that Jonah hadn't shot the gun except as practice, and that it was because he hadn't needed to. The golden pistol became a tool, not a weapon, and in that capacity it continued to serve admirably. Still, it felt odd in her hands, a little bit wrong. Even without bullets, it weighed more than the revolver had. It was bulky, garish, confident in a way Darlene didn't think she'd even been and certainly didn't have much time left to become. She was glad there were no bullets. She couldn't imagine how hard it would've kicked had she tried to fire it.
Christina was gone, now, out of sight and earshot if still very present in her mind. No sniper fire had torn the girl's legs from under her. Nobody had ambushed her, or killed her, unless they'd done so in total silence. A ringing echoed in Darlene's ears, still, the lingering spirit not only of these most recent gunshots but of all the others that had pierced her eardrums in this place, from the small discharges of her revolver to the giant explosion that had almost killed Sakurako. Aside from that, the air in the garden was motionless and heavy. The insects had briefly halted their chirps and chatterings, but it did not take them long to resume. The flowers trembled ever so slightly on their stalks. There were no birds now. They'd all taken flight at the first salvo.
It was an alright moment. It was one that felt timeless already, a golden afternoon that could stretch for minutes, for hours. Every second it endured was another that Christina had to put distance between her and their attacker. Assuming, of course, that that unknown was even still here. Darlene's throat got somehow tighter at the idea that she'd be the one left alone again, that Christina would be hunted down and picked off while she cowered and then whoever it was would come back for her.
There was very little she could do. She'd accepted that. But that wasn't the same as nothing. With one deep, painful inhalation, Darlene bid farewell to the quiet, and forced her vocal cords back into action, and then she hollered out as loud as she still could.
"Hey, you? You—are you still out there?"
A pause.
"I want to talk to you."
The singing girl shouted out towards Erika, giving her a moment’s pause and stifling her second painful attempt to stand back up from cover. It was hard to imagine that the girl was sincerely trying to talk her way out of what was going to happen. Her tone made it sound less like she had a plea to make, and more that she had something to get off of her chest.
Erika shouted back, choosing to operate on the assumption that the girl was at best, stalling.
“We have something to talk about? Kinda seems like we’re past words, dude!”
The words didn’t feel entirely true as they left her lips. It didn’t have to be a stalling tactic. It could’ve been any number of things. A final request or declaration, maybe one last attempt to pull Erika away from violence. Maybe it was just a chance to look Erika in the eyes and tell her to go to hell before the end. One guess seemed as good as any other. None of them were conversations Erika was particularly inclined to involve herself with.
She didn’t know who this girl was, and was only barely able to recall seeing her face around at school. It was hard for Erika to situate her within a memory, to even try to identify what she’d done to define herself among her peers within the last four years. Who her friends were, what she was interested in, what she did - there was nothing. Only a face, and a voice she knew she didn’t remember.
The singing girl seemed like a true unknown, relevant to Erika only in the role she’d been given by the AT. An obstacle. The realization made Erika feel empty. An unknown in her own way. She wondered just how relevant her own life before this could’ve been said to be, in this brief moment.
The fact that few decisions available to her even approached moral choices made the act of choosing somewhat paralyzing. It seemed cruel to give the girl time to speak, yet it seemed no better to take away one last chance to do so. The predatory part of her mind reminded Erika how foolish it was to give the girl the chance to speak; it simultaneously floated the idea of taking such a moment to make a clean shot.
Taking her left hand off of the foregrip of the rifle, she reached for the collar radar. With the rifle sling looped taut around the back of her neck, she could keep the long barrel relatively steady in one hand, the stock tucked underneath her arm. It wasn’t comfortable, but she didn’t want to risk not having a finger near the trigger.
There weren’t any other signatures on the radar besides the two of them in the Garden. It was enough cause to push Erika out of her indecision. After tucking the device back in her pocket, she shouted once again towards the other girl.
“Actually fuck it, what difference does it make? Come on out. We can talk.”
Using the planter as support, Erika gritted her teeth and forced herself back to her feet. Limping out from behind cover, she began to approach the planter the other girl had been hiding behind, keeping the Martini-Henry trained in anticipation of any sudden movements.
Erika shouted back, choosing to operate on the assumption that the girl was at best, stalling.
“We have something to talk about? Kinda seems like we’re past words, dude!”
The words didn’t feel entirely true as they left her lips. It didn’t have to be a stalling tactic. It could’ve been any number of things. A final request or declaration, maybe one last attempt to pull Erika away from violence. Maybe it was just a chance to look Erika in the eyes and tell her to go to hell before the end. One guess seemed as good as any other. None of them were conversations Erika was particularly inclined to involve herself with.
She didn’t know who this girl was, and was only barely able to recall seeing her face around at school. It was hard for Erika to situate her within a memory, to even try to identify what she’d done to define herself among her peers within the last four years. Who her friends were, what she was interested in, what she did - there was nothing. Only a face, and a voice she knew she didn’t remember.
The singing girl seemed like a true unknown, relevant to Erika only in the role she’d been given by the AT. An obstacle. The realization made Erika feel empty. An unknown in her own way. She wondered just how relevant her own life before this could’ve been said to be, in this brief moment.
The fact that few decisions available to her even approached moral choices made the act of choosing somewhat paralyzing. It seemed cruel to give the girl time to speak, yet it seemed no better to take away one last chance to do so. The predatory part of her mind reminded Erika how foolish it was to give the girl the chance to speak; it simultaneously floated the idea of taking such a moment to make a clean shot.
Taking her left hand off of the foregrip of the rifle, she reached for the collar radar. With the rifle sling looped taut around the back of her neck, she could keep the long barrel relatively steady in one hand, the stock tucked underneath her arm. It wasn’t comfortable, but she didn’t want to risk not having a finger near the trigger.
There weren’t any other signatures on the radar besides the two of them in the Garden. It was enough cause to push Erika out of her indecision. After tucking the device back in her pocket, she shouted once again towards the other girl.
“Actually fuck it, what difference does it make? Come on out. We can talk.”
Using the planter as support, Erika gritted her teeth and forced herself back to her feet. Limping out from behind cover, she began to approach the planter the other girl had been hiding behind, keeping the Martini-Henry trained in anticipation of any sudden movements.
-
MurderWeasel
- Posts: 2566
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 1:37 am
The voice that came back was at best loosely familiar to Darlene, something she'd heard in passing in class when it sounded a whole lot better. Now it was hoarse, ragged, but human all the same. It gave her pause for a moment, and that was almost enough time for hope to stir. Darlene quashed it.
This wasn't about her getting out of here. This wasn't about stopping the killer, or stalling for rescue. It was about buying time, like time had been bought for her. It was about finding something good just once more. She knew how this would end. The girl yelling had been right: there wasn't really anything for them to say, and Darlene had never been one to fill silence with idle small talk. But if it even might help, she would do it.
Of course, the first concern was making sure her head wasn't blown into pieces the moment she peeked out. It might happen whatever she did, but she couldn't help it if that was the case. She could, however, minimize uncertainty. She could keep trying to put on an act, could show the other side of the bluff that she'd been presenting when she pretended like she might shoot.
Darlene lifted Jonah's pistol and pressed it against the side of her head. The message was clear: she wasn't a threat to anyone but herself. She'd never have the time to turn it on her attacker, even if it actually had ammunition left. The metal was cool against her face. Her finger wasn't on the trigger, more because the handle was big for her and she needed to really use her grip to keep the massive weapon steady than for any practical reasons.
Slowly but surely, Darlene stood. Her head was not immediately blown off. The flowers trembled. The bugs wailed. The sun shone down from above, catching the gold plating she could barely making out from her peripheral vision and making it glisten and gleam. Her lips pulled up despite herself. Jonah was off to the side, and still she didn't look at him fully. She wouldn't have to. She didn't think he could see her, but hoped she was maybe wrong. She hoped he'd be proud.
She couldn't have picked a better place for this if she'd been trying.
Carefully, with little steps always conscious of the ivy, Darlene came out from behind her cover, walked her way into the open and stood now in front of the planter. Her breaths were slow and controlled, but that took a lot of her attention. The flowers and rot blended together and they were all sweet.
She hadn't really had any expectations for the attacker. She knew it wasn't Abe again, because Abe wouldn't have done that. Aside from that, she'd been clueless. The sight of the girl coming to meet her answered few questions at first. She was quite tall, but most people stood well above Darlene. She did not look good, either. Her right arm and opposite leg were wrapped in bandages, as was her chest. She was scraped up and dirty in other ways, too, her plaid shirt smeared and wrinkled, her black jeans ripped and ragged, a pistol poking from the waistband. Her hair was pulled back with a bandanna, and it looked wrong somehow, and that was when Darlene remembered where she'd seen this person before.
This girl had hung out with the scary delinquent guy who'd gone past Darlene's house in the middle of the night. The two of them had been together at the party. Around school, this girl had always worn braids and ribbons in her hair. She was a whole lot better at braiding than Darlene was, but all of that was gone now, and for some reason that made Darlene's throat start hurting again. The girl walked slowly, favoring the bandaged leg. Her gun kept steady, even as Jonah's trembled.
Three days ago, Darlene would've been at a loss for what to say. Now, the attrition gave her an unexpected opening for an introduction.
"You're Erika, right?" she asked, and sniffed. The bottoms of her glasses were a little smudged again and she wished she could clean them but it seemed unlikely the opportunity would present itself. "I'm, uh, Darlene."
This felt ridiculous. Their acquaintance was probably going to be brief. Darlene had read some things once about hostages who talked their ways free by saying their names a bunch, but she didn't think that was happening here. She hoped Christina wouldn't even look back.
"You tried before, huh? A, a couple days ago? By the lake?"
This wasn't about her getting out of here. This wasn't about stopping the killer, or stalling for rescue. It was about buying time, like time had been bought for her. It was about finding something good just once more. She knew how this would end. The girl yelling had been right: there wasn't really anything for them to say, and Darlene had never been one to fill silence with idle small talk. But if it even might help, she would do it.
Of course, the first concern was making sure her head wasn't blown into pieces the moment she peeked out. It might happen whatever she did, but she couldn't help it if that was the case. She could, however, minimize uncertainty. She could keep trying to put on an act, could show the other side of the bluff that she'd been presenting when she pretended like she might shoot.
Darlene lifted Jonah's pistol and pressed it against the side of her head. The message was clear: she wasn't a threat to anyone but herself. She'd never have the time to turn it on her attacker, even if it actually had ammunition left. The metal was cool against her face. Her finger wasn't on the trigger, more because the handle was big for her and she needed to really use her grip to keep the massive weapon steady than for any practical reasons.
Slowly but surely, Darlene stood. Her head was not immediately blown off. The flowers trembled. The bugs wailed. The sun shone down from above, catching the gold plating she could barely making out from her peripheral vision and making it glisten and gleam. Her lips pulled up despite herself. Jonah was off to the side, and still she didn't look at him fully. She wouldn't have to. She didn't think he could see her, but hoped she was maybe wrong. She hoped he'd be proud.
She couldn't have picked a better place for this if she'd been trying.
Carefully, with little steps always conscious of the ivy, Darlene came out from behind her cover, walked her way into the open and stood now in front of the planter. Her breaths were slow and controlled, but that took a lot of her attention. The flowers and rot blended together and they were all sweet.
She hadn't really had any expectations for the attacker. She knew it wasn't Abe again, because Abe wouldn't have done that. Aside from that, she'd been clueless. The sight of the girl coming to meet her answered few questions at first. She was quite tall, but most people stood well above Darlene. She did not look good, either. Her right arm and opposite leg were wrapped in bandages, as was her chest. She was scraped up and dirty in other ways, too, her plaid shirt smeared and wrinkled, her black jeans ripped and ragged, a pistol poking from the waistband. Her hair was pulled back with a bandanna, and it looked wrong somehow, and that was when Darlene remembered where she'd seen this person before.
This girl had hung out with the scary delinquent guy who'd gone past Darlene's house in the middle of the night. The two of them had been together at the party. Around school, this girl had always worn braids and ribbons in her hair. She was a whole lot better at braiding than Darlene was, but all of that was gone now, and for some reason that made Darlene's throat start hurting again. The girl walked slowly, favoring the bandaged leg. Her gun kept steady, even as Jonah's trembled.
Three days ago, Darlene would've been at a loss for what to say. Now, the attrition gave her an unexpected opening for an introduction.
"You're Erika, right?" she asked, and sniffed. The bottoms of her glasses were a little smudged again and she wished she could clean them but it seemed unlikely the opportunity would present itself. "I'm, uh, Darlene."
This felt ridiculous. Their acquaintance was probably going to be brief. Darlene had read some things once about hostages who talked their ways free by saying their names a bunch, but she didn't think that was happening here. She hoped Christina wouldn't even look back.
"You tried before, huh? A, a couple days ago? By the lake?"
The contrast between the strangely-familiar sight of a person with a gun to their head and the ambiguity of the person themselves was startling. While the rifle was trained directly on the girl’s chest and Erika’s finger continued to dance near the trigger, she didn’t fire. This had happened once before; Michael had appeared to her at the Temple doing much the same, though he held Adam Dodd’s Ballester-Molina to his head instead of the gaudy, horrendous-looking Desert Eagle. It was his way of ensuring their encounter opened with words, a message that said I’m perfectly content killing myself, anyways. Just hear me out.
Erika’s eyes darted to a body lying nearby. There was nothing left of the head but gore and maggots, but she was able to recognize the rest. The lingering miasma of Michael Froese hung over this encounter like so much dead, humid air.
The thing of it was, Erika didn’t see the same things in this girl’s eyes as she did in Mike’s so many days ago. It seemed like her ability to put on this kind of act wasn’t nearly so well-rehearsed. At the Temple it was almost a calculated move – the desperation was very clear behind the girl’s thick, smudged glasses. Nevertheless, Erika didn’t chance lowering her rifle for a moment. The fortunate thing about the girl’s choice of weapon was that it was exceptionally obvious when a Desert Eagle wasn’t loaded. The massive slide on those guns locked open pretty dramatically. Either she had an empty gun and had consciously closed the action in service of her approach, or there was at least one round still in the chamber, to say nothing of the magazine.
The girl was stalling, and Erika didn’t understand why. She needed to know why. This display interrupted the chain of thoughts that needed to inexorably lead her to pulling the trigger and ending the girl’s life. When she spoke, Erika’s gaze shot from the Desert Eagle to the other girl’s eyes.
She said Erika’s name. Erika nodded in recognition.
She said her own name. Darlene. Almost as if she wasn’t sure about it. Now there was a name to put to that vague familiarity that was so hard to place. Distant memories of attendance rosters and sideways glances across a classroom came to mind.
A response of her own started to form, something perfunctory and ill-fitting. Like how Erika wished she’d met her in another circumstance, how she hated that she didn’t know what she was taking away. Empty platitudes which served nothing other than a part of Erika that only pretended to still have relevance. There was nothing to say to make this better, no kind way to kill someone. Thankfully the words never left Erika’s mouth.
The question Darlene posed caused Erika to do a double take, limping a step backwards in disbelief. The image before her was similar for another reason – she’d been on the other side of this situation. Gun to her own head, on the rocky shoreline between the Lake and the sea. Lucas Diaz demanding that he be the one to kill her. Nearly succeeding. From the way things felt, he might still have a chance.
Except Darlene wasn’t there, was she? Like so much about this girl, Erika had only a vague notion. Distant thoughts about where she might've been hiding and watching the scene unfold.
She could still remember the feeling of the barrel under her chin. The sound of the hammer falling on an empty chamber over and over. How it felt different once she knew there was a bullet in there, waiting. The way the pain from Lucas’ attack broke her out of that dark place and shoved her back into this one. Cocking her head, she took a few steps closer to Darlene. The barrel of the Martini-Henry was only a foot or so from Darlene’s chest.
“Darlene, I - how the hell did you know I put a gun to my own head?!”
The expression on the girl’s face said enough. Shock read from behind her thick glasses, slowly sliding down the bridge of her nose. That wasn’t what she’d been asking. Erika played the words over again in her mind, and it quickly dawned on her what she’d actually meant. Shaking her head, she took her hand off of the rifle’s foregrip to brush errant strands of hair from her eyes. Her other hand remained clasped around the grip, finger on the trigger. With the sling drawn taut, she could keep it pointed with the other hand free; firing it like this, on the other hand, was not ideal.
Her reply was blunt, with a banality in her tone that stood in stark contrast to what she was actually describing.
“Oh. You mean I tried this before. I did, yeah. I had a clean shot on Abe but a bug startled me.”
Erika shrugged. They were killing time, but she couldn’t fathom why. There had to be something, some message here. There were too many strange coincidences, too many loose threads she knew she had to tie together. She didn’t know what she was looking at. She didn’t know what she was about to destroy. In the absence of a threat, she felt an obligation to listen. Erika didn’t imagine anyone would do that for her, in her own last moments.
With her free hand, she reached down and took a passing glance at the collar radar. No one was coming. They still had a few moments to talk. She prompted Darlene to continue, as gently as she was able to.
“You can either pull the trigger or I will, but this is where it ends. I know you know that. So like - what is it that I can do for you, right here? I need to understand.”
Erika’s eyes darted to a body lying nearby. There was nothing left of the head but gore and maggots, but she was able to recognize the rest. The lingering miasma of Michael Froese hung over this encounter like so much dead, humid air.
The thing of it was, Erika didn’t see the same things in this girl’s eyes as she did in Mike’s so many days ago. It seemed like her ability to put on this kind of act wasn’t nearly so well-rehearsed. At the Temple it was almost a calculated move – the desperation was very clear behind the girl’s thick, smudged glasses. Nevertheless, Erika didn’t chance lowering her rifle for a moment. The fortunate thing about the girl’s choice of weapon was that it was exceptionally obvious when a Desert Eagle wasn’t loaded. The massive slide on those guns locked open pretty dramatically. Either she had an empty gun and had consciously closed the action in service of her approach, or there was at least one round still in the chamber, to say nothing of the magazine.
The girl was stalling, and Erika didn’t understand why. She needed to know why. This display interrupted the chain of thoughts that needed to inexorably lead her to pulling the trigger and ending the girl’s life. When she spoke, Erika’s gaze shot from the Desert Eagle to the other girl’s eyes.
She said Erika’s name. Erika nodded in recognition.
She said her own name. Darlene. Almost as if she wasn’t sure about it. Now there was a name to put to that vague familiarity that was so hard to place. Distant memories of attendance rosters and sideways glances across a classroom came to mind.
A response of her own started to form, something perfunctory and ill-fitting. Like how Erika wished she’d met her in another circumstance, how she hated that she didn’t know what she was taking away. Empty platitudes which served nothing other than a part of Erika that only pretended to still have relevance. There was nothing to say to make this better, no kind way to kill someone. Thankfully the words never left Erika’s mouth.
The question Darlene posed caused Erika to do a double take, limping a step backwards in disbelief. The image before her was similar for another reason – she’d been on the other side of this situation. Gun to her own head, on the rocky shoreline between the Lake and the sea. Lucas Diaz demanding that he be the one to kill her. Nearly succeeding. From the way things felt, he might still have a chance.
Except Darlene wasn’t there, was she? Like so much about this girl, Erika had only a vague notion. Distant thoughts about where she might've been hiding and watching the scene unfold.
She could still remember the feeling of the barrel under her chin. The sound of the hammer falling on an empty chamber over and over. How it felt different once she knew there was a bullet in there, waiting. The way the pain from Lucas’ attack broke her out of that dark place and shoved her back into this one. Cocking her head, she took a few steps closer to Darlene. The barrel of the Martini-Henry was only a foot or so from Darlene’s chest.
“Darlene, I - how the hell did you know I put a gun to my own head?!”
The expression on the girl’s face said enough. Shock read from behind her thick glasses, slowly sliding down the bridge of her nose. That wasn’t what she’d been asking. Erika played the words over again in her mind, and it quickly dawned on her what she’d actually meant. Shaking her head, she took her hand off of the rifle’s foregrip to brush errant strands of hair from her eyes. Her other hand remained clasped around the grip, finger on the trigger. With the sling drawn taut, she could keep it pointed with the other hand free; firing it like this, on the other hand, was not ideal.
Her reply was blunt, with a banality in her tone that stood in stark contrast to what she was actually describing.
“Oh. You mean I tried this before. I did, yeah. I had a clean shot on Abe but a bug startled me.”
Erika shrugged. They were killing time, but she couldn’t fathom why. There had to be something, some message here. There were too many strange coincidences, too many loose threads she knew she had to tie together. She didn’t know what she was looking at. She didn’t know what she was about to destroy. In the absence of a threat, she felt an obligation to listen. Erika didn’t imagine anyone would do that for her, in her own last moments.
With her free hand, she reached down and took a passing glance at the collar radar. No one was coming. They still had a few moments to talk. She prompted Darlene to continue, as gently as she was able to.
“You can either pull the trigger or I will, but this is where it ends. I know you know that. So like - what is it that I can do for you, right here? I need to understand.”
-
MurderWeasel
- Posts: 2566
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 1:37 am
"Lots of bugs here."
That was what Darlene came up with in response to the confirmation that she'd been on the money, that the girl before her was indeed Erika and had indeed tried to kill her before. Or, well, not her—Abe. That made Darlene angrier, actually, even though Abe had left her and even after the bear trap and even though at the time he'd been a way more obvious threat. She didn't let that upset spill out, however. This was about time. Moment by moment, Christina's chance got better. And every moment that passed was one more in the bank, another opportunity for a deep breath that felt good or a sweet scent that was more pleasant than deathly or a happy memory bubbling in the background.
Mysteries were enjoyable in their own way, and while she'd never solve it, she'd found one of those, too. Erika had been in her shoes, had taken her life in her hands with an eye towards ending it, but Darlene was willing to bet Erika's gun hadn't been empty and her heart had been in it. Which wasn't, of course, to imply Darlene didn't know precisely what she was doing, just... it was different. If she'd been caught out herself, if Max or Jonah had been alive to discern her plans for the prize, and had confronted her with them, she would've been sad and guilty. Believing herself in the same position, Erika seemed afraid.
Being the cause of that fear felt almost good, mostly because it was funny. Darlene didn't think herself scary. When she got really mad, those rare times she yelled and meant it, people still didn't take her all that seriously. Even with a gun, people brushed her off. Even if she was firing it! She was short and shy and didn't have the composure or skill or disposition to be half as fearsome as most of her classmates. And she knew, of course, Erika wasn't made nervous by her, but by the thought of having been exposed, vulnerable in a private moment, and it was a fair concern, because Darlene did have this way of showing up and quietly watching when nobody expected her.
None of it mattered, of course. Erika was upfront about how this went, and Darlene had half a mind to pull the trigger just for the click and laugh one more time before she got gunned down, but that wouldn't buy more time. There was an offer on the table, and every moment left was another moment in service of the only goal she had left.
"Can I sit down?" she asked. No dissent came, so Darlene lowered herself into the ivy. It was prickly again her legs, but she wasn't sure she even could've stayed standing, she was so anxious. Her words were uncommonly orderly, but her voice wavered. She made herself still not look at Jonah or Michael. Her eyes stayed on Erika, more or less, but also she took in the swaying flowers and distant sky beyond. She thought she saw birds, somewhere far away, a whole flock of them. Jonah's gun was very heavy and the angle she was holding it was awkward and she was probably going to have to set it down soon, but this was going one thing at a time.
It was almost touching, Erika's hint of concern and suggested desire to do what she wanted. It felt like a tiny piece of choice, false though it was. It was good manners, though it didn't quite manage to mask the rather greater meanness at play. Darlene was tempted to ask for something wild. A piece of candy, or something incredible and magical, but she couldn't even think of what. Her scalp hurt. Her glasses were pinching at that spot against her ear again.
"You had really pretty hair," she finally said. "I, I always... I wanted to learn to braid like that."
That sounded like she was going to ask Erika to do her hair, which was funny except for it would also get her shot right now instead of in a couple minutes, and every second counted. So she kept going.
"Why'd you change it?"
That was what Darlene came up with in response to the confirmation that she'd been on the money, that the girl before her was indeed Erika and had indeed tried to kill her before. Or, well, not her—Abe. That made Darlene angrier, actually, even though Abe had left her and even after the bear trap and even though at the time he'd been a way more obvious threat. She didn't let that upset spill out, however. This was about time. Moment by moment, Christina's chance got better. And every moment that passed was one more in the bank, another opportunity for a deep breath that felt good or a sweet scent that was more pleasant than deathly or a happy memory bubbling in the background.
Mysteries were enjoyable in their own way, and while she'd never solve it, she'd found one of those, too. Erika had been in her shoes, had taken her life in her hands with an eye towards ending it, but Darlene was willing to bet Erika's gun hadn't been empty and her heart had been in it. Which wasn't, of course, to imply Darlene didn't know precisely what she was doing, just... it was different. If she'd been caught out herself, if Max or Jonah had been alive to discern her plans for the prize, and had confronted her with them, she would've been sad and guilty. Believing herself in the same position, Erika seemed afraid.
Being the cause of that fear felt almost good, mostly because it was funny. Darlene didn't think herself scary. When she got really mad, those rare times she yelled and meant it, people still didn't take her all that seriously. Even with a gun, people brushed her off. Even if she was firing it! She was short and shy and didn't have the composure or skill or disposition to be half as fearsome as most of her classmates. And she knew, of course, Erika wasn't made nervous by her, but by the thought of having been exposed, vulnerable in a private moment, and it was a fair concern, because Darlene did have this way of showing up and quietly watching when nobody expected her.
None of it mattered, of course. Erika was upfront about how this went, and Darlene had half a mind to pull the trigger just for the click and laugh one more time before she got gunned down, but that wouldn't buy more time. There was an offer on the table, and every moment left was another moment in service of the only goal she had left.
"Can I sit down?" she asked. No dissent came, so Darlene lowered herself into the ivy. It was prickly again her legs, but she wasn't sure she even could've stayed standing, she was so anxious. Her words were uncommonly orderly, but her voice wavered. She made herself still not look at Jonah or Michael. Her eyes stayed on Erika, more or less, but also she took in the swaying flowers and distant sky beyond. She thought she saw birds, somewhere far away, a whole flock of them. Jonah's gun was very heavy and the angle she was holding it was awkward and she was probably going to have to set it down soon, but this was going one thing at a time.
It was almost touching, Erika's hint of concern and suggested desire to do what she wanted. It felt like a tiny piece of choice, false though it was. It was good manners, though it didn't quite manage to mask the rather greater meanness at play. Darlene was tempted to ask for something wild. A piece of candy, or something incredible and magical, but she couldn't even think of what. Her scalp hurt. Her glasses were pinching at that spot against her ear again.
"You had really pretty hair," she finally said. "I, I always... I wanted to learn to braid like that."
That sounded like she was going to ask Erika to do her hair, which was funny except for it would also get her shot right now instead of in a couple minutes, and every second counted. So she kept going.
"Why'd you change it?"