((Alice Blake continued from Orientation))
Alice hadn't been traveling long before she heard waves. It was enough to give her pause. There hadn't been any sign of Victoria or Bounce, let alone anyone else, so she might permit herself a brief period to take a breath. After all, she had been moving at a very decent clip from where she woke up without any stops before this. Alice readjusted the bag on her shoulder while taking a tentative step toward the treeline. Vic would be waiting for her and it would be foolish to stop for sight seeing, especially when the reason was so daft. No, Vic needed her. Alice turned sharply, putting the waves out of mind. Maybe once they were reunited...But, surely a brief stop wouldn't make any difference, would it? No, she'd be able to rest before continuing her search. It would be fine, of course.
So, Alice turned and made her way onto the beach. Other then sudden sunlight causing her waters, it was as wonderful as she would have expected. In all her nineteen years, she'd never once seen the ocean. Not in person, anyway, though movies and tv couldn't possible do it justice. A ranging expanse, as far as the eye could see. The waves, crashing and rolling onto the beach in an endless cycle. It was as breath-taking as she imagined it to be.
With a faint smile fixed on her face, Alice took a seat in the sand, setting her bag down next to her. For a few moments, Victoria and Bounce were forgotten. All she wanted to do were watch the waves and forget about everything going on around her. This was relaxing, calming and pushed the horror show that was Survival of the Fittest out of her thoughts, however briefly. For a few seconds, that was enough. Ever since waking up, she'd been tensed, waiting for someone to take a shot at her. The opportunity to relax was nice. After a time, her thoughts drifted to her parents. They wouldn't be at home watching her obviously, but her parents were never far from her thoughts. Naturally, they wouldn't want her to kill anyone, wouldn't want Alice to be some psycho murdering everyone she saw. She'd hate to disappoint them.
Gunshots further down the beach broke her from her reverie. It brought her back to where she was, and what she was doing. Disgusted with herself for daydreaming while Vic might be fighting for her life, Alice clambered to her feet. Absently, she pulled the revolver and slid open the cylinder. With a muted feeling of dread, she saw she never loaded. Maybe she'd just assumed it was already loaded, but this was a horrible lapse in judgment, one that could have gotten her killed. Quickly, frantically, she pulled open her bag and rummaged through it, only stopping when she dug out the 12 bullets assigned to her. Now that she had them, she quickly slid six of the bullet in the cylinder before pushing it closed with the palm of her hand. The other six went into her pocket. With that taken care of, she slid the gun back into her waistband. As an afterthought, Alice removed the handcuffs from the bag and stowed them in her other pocket. If she did need them, she wouldn't want to dig through her bag first.
That was too close. She was just lucky she hadn't needed to use it. God, she was such an idiot! That was taking a big risk, and it was one that might have gotten not only her, but the people she cared about, hurt. Certain measures would need to be taken in the future. Or, maybe she could just make sure any guns she came across were loaded before relying on them for protection. As long as didn't screw up again, it would be fine. That was enough of a break, she decided. She needed to get going, needed to find Vic and Bounce. But...Alice hesitated. Maybe another minute wouldn't hurt? After all, she hadn't seen anyone since leaving Roman, Darren, and that girl. Maybe another minute watching the waves would be okay.
Obstacles In Our Path
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Sister Grimm*
- Posts: 172
- Joined: Sun Sep 02, 2018 6:38 am
(Continued from Hungover in Hell)
Tyler Franklin was not a happy young man when he made his way down to the coastal woods. The fact of the matter was that his trudge to the coast had been easy as far as the walking went, but hard as far as actually getting there without being seen. For all its apparent size, the island felt like it was crawling with people who he didn't know were playing or not.
Tyler had mostly avoided those he had seen. The gunshots he had heard a few moments earlier seemed to confirm his suspicion that he needed to avoid other people as much as possible to survive, and only to deal with them once he had an idea of who could be trusted and who couldn't. And right now, he had no idea of who fit into either category.
I will survive this. I will survive this.
That thought pulsed through his mind as he reached the coast, hearing gunshots. He'd checked his bag; he had a tire iron in one hand that he'd been issued as a weapon. But tire irons weren't going to get him anywhere if someone else pulled a gun on him. To survive that, he'd need something better...a gun of his own or something he could lay a trap with to get the drop on them or...something. He was trying to think. But the tire iron was better than nothing, he knew that. At least he could use it, and tire iron or no, Tyler knew he was going to have hell getting through this on just the provided rations. He needed more, but for now he knew he had what he needed to at least stay alive.
As Tyler approached the beach, he at last came upon someone whom he could see as a target to grab the equipment of: One person, alone, and distracted with the scenery. Approaching as quietly as he could, timing his steps as closely as he could manage with the waves falling on the edge of the island, Tyler wordlessly stepped up behind Alice. The sand muffled whatever sounds of his approach might have survived his efforts at hiding them.
This sucks...whomever you are, I'm sorry I have to do this, but I didn't ask to be on this show any more than you did, and I know you've got food that I need, and who knows what else. And I know better than to ask for all your stuff...that's how I die on this show.
And with that thought flying through his mind, in and out in a matter of seconds as he crosses the beach, Tyler Franklin takes one hard swing with his tire iron at the back of Alice Blake. And though there's no camera positioned to see his face as he does so, he closes his eyes, hoping this would be a one-hit fight, that he could get what he needed, and that he wouldn't actually have to kill her.
Tyler Franklin was not a happy young man when he made his way down to the coastal woods. The fact of the matter was that his trudge to the coast had been easy as far as the walking went, but hard as far as actually getting there without being seen. For all its apparent size, the island felt like it was crawling with people who he didn't know were playing or not.
Tyler had mostly avoided those he had seen. The gunshots he had heard a few moments earlier seemed to confirm his suspicion that he needed to avoid other people as much as possible to survive, and only to deal with them once he had an idea of who could be trusted and who couldn't. And right now, he had no idea of who fit into either category.
I will survive this. I will survive this.
That thought pulsed through his mind as he reached the coast, hearing gunshots. He'd checked his bag; he had a tire iron in one hand that he'd been issued as a weapon. But tire irons weren't going to get him anywhere if someone else pulled a gun on him. To survive that, he'd need something better...a gun of his own or something he could lay a trap with to get the drop on them or...something. He was trying to think. But the tire iron was better than nothing, he knew that. At least he could use it, and tire iron or no, Tyler knew he was going to have hell getting through this on just the provided rations. He needed more, but for now he knew he had what he needed to at least stay alive.
As Tyler approached the beach, he at last came upon someone whom he could see as a target to grab the equipment of: One person, alone, and distracted with the scenery. Approaching as quietly as he could, timing his steps as closely as he could manage with the waves falling on the edge of the island, Tyler wordlessly stepped up behind Alice. The sand muffled whatever sounds of his approach might have survived his efforts at hiding them.
This sucks...whomever you are, I'm sorry I have to do this, but I didn't ask to be on this show any more than you did, and I know you've got food that I need, and who knows what else. And I know better than to ask for all your stuff...that's how I die on this show.
And with that thought flying through his mind, in and out in a matter of seconds as he crosses the beach, Tyler Franklin takes one hard swing with his tire iron at the back of Alice Blake. And though there's no camera positioned to see his face as he does so, he closes his eyes, hoping this would be a one-hit fight, that he could get what he needed, and that he wouldn't actually have to kill her.
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Sister Grimm*
- Posts: 172
- Joined: Sun Sep 02, 2018 6:38 am
Why the hell was she just standing there? Vic needed her, and all Alice could do was stare out across the water. Part of her was screaming to get moving, to make herself useful for once. Another part pointed out that if the few seconds she was taking to stare out at the water were all it took, leaving now wouldn't make a difference. And then there was the whole part about her not knowing where to even start looking. It wasn't as if they'd covered this before. 'So, Vic, I thought something up in case we ever end up on an island with the directive to kill everyone we meet. Oh, you know me, always prepared.' It wasn't as if she could ask around. Somehow she doubted everyone else would have adopted the same attitude she had. That meant she would need to find her friends on her own. Preferably, sooner rather then later.
She would find Vic and Bounce, make sure they were okay. Then could go hide out somewhere, try to wait this out? Escape was impossible, and help arriving was doubtful. All hiding would do was delay the inevitable, but it would be better then expecting a bullet in the back anywhere else. Alice rummaged through the bag at her feet until she removed the map. She would have said that the island was bigger then she expected, but she didn't know what she was expecting in the first place. After a second, she found her rough location before sweeping out from there. Vic would be looking for her, she hoped. Bounce too. Maybe that meant the center of the island? Or maybe they'd seek shelter in the cluster of buildings on the north-east part of the map?
Alice shoved the map back into her back, grinding her teeth in frustration. There was no way she could guess where they'd be. She was on her own, and there was little more she could do then hope they ran into each other. Bounce might have been okay on her own, at least for a time. She was smart, not to mention knowing how this all worked. Vic might have some other friends she could shack up with or something. Maybe-
Alice froze. She might have been imagining it, but she thought she'd heard something behind her. Maybe the waves, or the wind? Or maybe it was someone creeping up to gut her like a fish. Alice had started to turn, her hand going for the revolver, when the tire iron connected. Her vision blurred. Pain, a sudden and large amount of pain. The faint notion she was falling. The sudden realization she was going to die. Terror. Vic. No! No, oh God, no! This isn't happening, something, anything but this! She didn't know if her eyes were closed or if she was dead. She urged herself to move, but her body felt leaden. All she could hear was a distant rushing, and she prayed that was the waves crashing onto the beach. Who hit her? Did she know him? Did it matter? If she wasn't dead, she'd kill him.
Gradually, the world came into focus. The trees. She'd fallen on her side, collapsed where she was standing. It felt like it had been an eternity, but it'd likely only been seconds. She needed to move, needed to get up, needed to draw her gun. Alice pushed herself onto her hands and knees. Her head was throbbing, and every beat was like an order to keep still. She wasn't thinking, just kept telling herself to move, to defend herself. She couldn't die here, wouldn't die here. Not when there were people waiting for her. There was no way she'd be offed by this asshole, not like this.
She would find Vic and Bounce, make sure they were okay. Then could go hide out somewhere, try to wait this out? Escape was impossible, and help arriving was doubtful. All hiding would do was delay the inevitable, but it would be better then expecting a bullet in the back anywhere else. Alice rummaged through the bag at her feet until she removed the map. She would have said that the island was bigger then she expected, but she didn't know what she was expecting in the first place. After a second, she found her rough location before sweeping out from there. Vic would be looking for her, she hoped. Bounce too. Maybe that meant the center of the island? Or maybe they'd seek shelter in the cluster of buildings on the north-east part of the map?
Alice shoved the map back into her back, grinding her teeth in frustration. There was no way she could guess where they'd be. She was on her own, and there was little more she could do then hope they ran into each other. Bounce might have been okay on her own, at least for a time. She was smart, not to mention knowing how this all worked. Vic might have some other friends she could shack up with or something. Maybe-
Alice froze. She might have been imagining it, but she thought she'd heard something behind her. Maybe the waves, or the wind? Or maybe it was someone creeping up to gut her like a fish. Alice had started to turn, her hand going for the revolver, when the tire iron connected. Her vision blurred. Pain, a sudden and large amount of pain. The faint notion she was falling. The sudden realization she was going to die. Terror. Vic. No! No, oh God, no! This isn't happening, something, anything but this! She didn't know if her eyes were closed or if she was dead. She urged herself to move, but her body felt leaden. All she could hear was a distant rushing, and she prayed that was the waves crashing onto the beach. Who hit her? Did she know him? Did it matter? If she wasn't dead, she'd kill him.
Gradually, the world came into focus. The trees. She'd fallen on her side, collapsed where she was standing. It felt like it had been an eternity, but it'd likely only been seconds. She needed to move, needed to get up, needed to draw her gun. Alice pushed herself onto her hands and knees. Her head was throbbing, and every beat was like an order to keep still. She wasn't thinking, just kept telling herself to move, to defend herself. She couldn't die here, wouldn't die here. Not when there were people waiting for her. There was no way she'd be offed by this asshole, not like this.
It doesn't take Tyler long to see that one hit wasn't enoigh to stop Alice from at least trying to mount a counter-attack, not that he could blame her. It wouldn't stop him in her shoes, either...but for now, he was just glad that he wasn't the one on the recieving end of this. It was a small blessing, but it was a blessing all the same.
Again.
Tyler takes a second swing, also aimed at Alice's back, as she attempts to rise. This shot is aimed higher on her back; Alice being on the ground gives him more flexibility in where to pick his shots, and he's taking full advantage of that. Frowning, he gives the swing his all.
What is perhaps stunning is that other than a light grunt at the effort he puts into the swing, Tyler doesn't say a word or utter a sound. Combined with Alice's silence, the scene is chilling for its lack of noise, the sound of the impacts of the tire iron almost drowned out by the sound of the ocean.
Regardless of Alice's reaction to the second swing, Tyler takes a third hard swing at her back right on the heels of the second swing, with another grunt accompanying it. Other than the grunts, though, he says nothing yet again.
Let's get this over with. I don't want to actually have to fight you...whoever you are...just go down, don't get back up, I'll take what I need, and I'll move on.
And then, with three hard swings done, Tyler steps back to look at what she has that he can take. He's not concerned with finishing the kill...not now, not yet, and if he can help it not ever. For the moment, three swings should be enough to incapacitate anyone for a few moments. He's concerned with surviving and getting what he needs to not to die. That's all this is to him: Nothing personal, however brutal it can be, just one desperate kid trying to win what is quite literally the fight of his life.
Again.
Tyler takes a second swing, also aimed at Alice's back, as she attempts to rise. This shot is aimed higher on her back; Alice being on the ground gives him more flexibility in where to pick his shots, and he's taking full advantage of that. Frowning, he gives the swing his all.
What is perhaps stunning is that other than a light grunt at the effort he puts into the swing, Tyler doesn't say a word or utter a sound. Combined with Alice's silence, the scene is chilling for its lack of noise, the sound of the impacts of the tire iron almost drowned out by the sound of the ocean.
Regardless of Alice's reaction to the second swing, Tyler takes a third hard swing at her back right on the heels of the second swing, with another grunt accompanying it. Other than the grunts, though, he says nothing yet again.
Let's get this over with. I don't want to actually have to fight you...whoever you are...just go down, don't get back up, I'll take what I need, and I'll move on.
And then, with three hard swings done, Tyler steps back to look at what she has that he can take. He's not concerned with finishing the kill...not now, not yet, and if he can help it not ever. For the moment, three swings should be enough to incapacitate anyone for a few moments. He's concerned with surviving and getting what he needs to not to die. That's all this is to him: Nothing personal, however brutal it can be, just one desperate kid trying to win what is quite literally the fight of his life.
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Sister Grimm*
- Posts: 172
- Joined: Sun Sep 02, 2018 6:38 am
All her energy and will was focused on getting up. Getting up and putting forth some kind of protest. Her head was till throbbing, her vision still blurred every time she moved, but she needed to get to her feet. It didn't occur to her at that particular moment that it would be perfectly easy to club her again. All that mattered was fighting back. If she could just get the gun, she could shoot...If she got her gun, she could take care of this situation. Scare them off, shoot them, whatever. As long as she left the beach alive, it didn't matter.
She hadn't moved before they hit her again. Whoever they were, it was a toss-up between determination and sadism. Alice couldn't blame them for the second hit, as much as she wanted to. She'd have down the same. But why her? What did she have that made her a target? Did they see the gun, maybe deciding that they'd rather have a revolver then a club? She didn't think that it was her attacker was playing the game. If they were, that second hit would have been aimed at bashing her skull in. Unless they were working up to the hill, of course. Maybe knocking her around for the camera first. Maybe they got some sort of thrill out of hurting her.
It didn't matter why. Outside a short cry of pain after the blow, Alice didn't make a sound. No whimper or pleas for mercy or wishes to be left alone. Her arms tensed, keeping her on all fours. It didn't matter how hard he hit her, she needed to get to her feet and find Vic. Needed to shoot the asshole hitting her. Her teeth teeth grinding together and her eyes screwed shut, she tried to ignore her aching body. If she didn't need to be somewhere else, or she was sure her attacker didn't plan to brain her, she might have been content to lie there for a while, at least until it didn't hurt to breathe. No, she'd climb to her feet, hand the person hitting her their ass and stroll off the beach.
Then the third hit came and there wasn't much else she could do beside collapse.
Alice sank into the sand, the fight going out of her. Alice wasn't the type to give up, but it was preferable to the beating she would no doubt get if she stayed up. If they were going to rob her, let them get if over with. If they were going to kill her, well...then maybe she miscalculated. Footsteps going away from her, as well as the fourth strike that never came led her to believe she might be safe if she didn't move. Maybe they really weren't there to kill her. Maybe that just hadn't got around to it yet. Whatever the reason, she hoped they were more interested in her bag then making sure she was down.
Alice gritted her teeth as she rolled onto her back. Blocking out the pain and focusing her vision was easy enough, given her incentive. Get out the gun, or she'd never see Vic again. When it was that simple, the decision was easy. Alice shifted to allow her hand to reach the gun in her waistband. Now that she could see the bastard rifling through her pack, she knew who he was. Tyler Frank-something. She'd seen him around, but had no idea if he was capable of killing her. Now that she had the gun, it was irrelevant. Propping herself up with her other hand, she took aim at the boy before pulling back the hammer with a clearly audible click.
For a second, she was dead certain that she was going to pull the trigger. This was self-defense, after all. Instead, she hesitated. The gun didn't waver, but her conviction to pull the trigger did. She though of her parents. She thought of how they'd react if they were watching at home. Watching their daughter beaten with a tire iron before shooting the boy who attacked her. Would they think it self-defense? Would it matter? She waited until his eyes met hers before nodding toward the treeline with the barrel of the gun. "Walk away." She hissed thought clenched teeth. "Now."
She hadn't moved before they hit her again. Whoever they were, it was a toss-up between determination and sadism. Alice couldn't blame them for the second hit, as much as she wanted to. She'd have down the same. But why her? What did she have that made her a target? Did they see the gun, maybe deciding that they'd rather have a revolver then a club? She didn't think that it was her attacker was playing the game. If they were, that second hit would have been aimed at bashing her skull in. Unless they were working up to the hill, of course. Maybe knocking her around for the camera first. Maybe they got some sort of thrill out of hurting her.
It didn't matter why. Outside a short cry of pain after the blow, Alice didn't make a sound. No whimper or pleas for mercy or wishes to be left alone. Her arms tensed, keeping her on all fours. It didn't matter how hard he hit her, she needed to get to her feet and find Vic. Needed to shoot the asshole hitting her. Her teeth teeth grinding together and her eyes screwed shut, she tried to ignore her aching body. If she didn't need to be somewhere else, or she was sure her attacker didn't plan to brain her, she might have been content to lie there for a while, at least until it didn't hurt to breathe. No, she'd climb to her feet, hand the person hitting her their ass and stroll off the beach.
Then the third hit came and there wasn't much else she could do beside collapse.
Alice sank into the sand, the fight going out of her. Alice wasn't the type to give up, but it was preferable to the beating she would no doubt get if she stayed up. If they were going to rob her, let them get if over with. If they were going to kill her, well...then maybe she miscalculated. Footsteps going away from her, as well as the fourth strike that never came led her to believe she might be safe if she didn't move. Maybe they really weren't there to kill her. Maybe that just hadn't got around to it yet. Whatever the reason, she hoped they were more interested in her bag then making sure she was down.
Alice gritted her teeth as she rolled onto her back. Blocking out the pain and focusing her vision was easy enough, given her incentive. Get out the gun, or she'd never see Vic again. When it was that simple, the decision was easy. Alice shifted to allow her hand to reach the gun in her waistband. Now that she could see the bastard rifling through her pack, she knew who he was. Tyler Frank-something. She'd seen him around, but had no idea if he was capable of killing her. Now that she had the gun, it was irrelevant. Propping herself up with her other hand, she took aim at the boy before pulling back the hammer with a clearly audible click.
For a second, she was dead certain that she was going to pull the trigger. This was self-defense, after all. Instead, she hesitated. The gun didn't waver, but her conviction to pull the trigger did. She though of her parents. She thought of how they'd react if they were watching at home. Watching their daughter beaten with a tire iron before shooting the boy who attacked her. Would they think it self-defense? Would it matter? She waited until his eyes met hers before nodding toward the treeline with the barrel of the gun. "Walk away." She hissed thought clenched teeth. "Now."
((Anderson please be careful with your tenses, you've lapsed into present tense quite a few times now, and the accepted form on the site is past tense, third person. Please try to adhere to that)).
"Walk away." She hissed thought clenched teeth. "Now."
Tyler looked up at Alice as she spoke unexpectedly. He'd been hoping to avoid this. He really, really had, and the fact that Alice was back up so quickly surprised him.
Damn. Not good.
In this situation, there was good news and there was bad news. The good news was that he'd managed to get the food and water out of her bags before she trained her gun on him. Obviously, it was also nice of her not to draw a bead on him and plug him with a shot in the back. The bad news was that, of course, there was a gun pointed at him, presumably a loaded one, and he'd only brought a figurative knife to this fight.
Slowly setting the bag down, Tyler raised his hands, talking slowly. "Alright. I'm going to take my bags and go, and neither of us is going to get killed." As he says this, he reached down for his two bags, slowly lifting them up "Ok? Neither of us wants to kill anyone, right?"
Which is why I didn't kill you when I had the chance. You do get that, right?
And with that, Tyler Franklin slowly began backing away into the woods, before getting a tree or two between him and Alice. Once he did that, he ran as fast as he could, trying to get distance between himself and the girl with the gun.
Shit, that was close!
((Tyler Franklin continued elsewhere))
Tyler looked up at Alice as she spoke unexpectedly. He'd been hoping to avoid this. He really, really had, and the fact that Alice was back up so quickly surprised him.
Damn. Not good.
In this situation, there was good news and there was bad news. The good news was that he'd managed to get the food and water out of her bags before she trained her gun on him. Obviously, it was also nice of her not to draw a bead on him and plug him with a shot in the back. The bad news was that, of course, there was a gun pointed at him, presumably a loaded one, and he'd only brought a figurative knife to this fight.
Slowly setting the bag down, Tyler raised his hands, talking slowly. "Alright. I'm going to take my bags and go, and neither of us is going to get killed." As he says this, he reached down for his two bags, slowly lifting them up "Ok? Neither of us wants to kill anyone, right?"
Which is why I didn't kill you when I had the chance. You do get that, right?
And with that, Tyler Franklin slowly began backing away into the woods, before getting a tree or two between him and Alice. Once he did that, he ran as fast as he could, trying to get distance between himself and the girl with the gun.
Shit, that was close!
((Tyler Franklin continued elsewhere))
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Sister Grimm*
- Posts: 172
- Joined: Sun Sep 02, 2018 6:38 am
Alice watched Tyler stand with a start. The hand holding the revolver started to tremble, the barrel wavering to and fro. She braced her hand on her wrist, noting with an absent sense of satisfaction that the shake subsided a bit. Absent, because her attention was still divided between Tyler and the splitting migraine raging through head. She supposed that she might have a concussion. He had hit her pretty hard, after all. At least her vision was no longer blurring, as it had after the first hit. Considering that her knowledge of head injuries was...lacking, she would try to get the boy away before her headache grew worse, if that was supposed to happen at all.
Alice tried to keep herself still as he raised his hands in the air. When every breath brought on new stabs of pain, it was easier said then done. His words faded to a distant drone and she tried to focus on keeping the gun trained on him instead of letting herself drop back to the sand like her body so desperately wanted to do. Anyway, it didn't matter what he had to say. He was going to leave, or she'd shoot him. If he was trying to talk his way out, to explain himself, whatever. She didn't care. He was lucky the cameras were watching.
So intent on getting him out of the area, Alice didn't even bother with getting his bag. At gunpoint, he'd be only too happy to contribute some donations to the Alice Survival Fund, she suspected. But, even if she was in better shape and not resigned to her current position, she probably wouldn't bother. Dallas had already made his contribution, and as such, she wouldn't need to resupply any time soon.
"Neither of us wants to kill anyone, right?"
She caught that bit, and it was enough to make her hand tighten on the grip of the revolver. She did want want to kill him, actually. He'd attacked her, bushwhacked her, fought her like a coward. She wanted him dead, and not only out of revenge. He'd made her weak, helpless. No matter how long it lasted, it was more then long enough. When he'd hit her, there was nothing she could do about aside from praying he didn't finish the job. It ignited a seething sort of rage in her that was hard to ignore. That side of her wanted to shoot him, to empty the gun into him. The part of her that wasn't barely suppressed rage said otherwise. Alice let him walk away with his bags, keeping the gun trained on him as he went.
The scarred woman waited, her gun raised toward the forest where he disappeared for near ten minutes after he left. Her arms began to tremble not halfway through that, but that helpless feeling from before drove her on. When she was satisfied she was alone, she crawled over to her bags with a pained grunt. Alice stared at where her food used to be with mute rage. That bastard had robbed her after all. Even after she was kind enough not to blow his brains out. It was a small consolation that the food and water was all he had stolen. All the same, Alice wanted to scream in frustration. Alice swore as she climbed gingerly to her feet and gathered her bag.
As she made her way to the treeline, Alice glanced at the beach once more. It occurred to her that most of the food stolen was from Dallas's bag in the first place. With a humorless grin, Alice turned her back on the ocean. Karma, you bitch.
((Alice Blake Continued in Death At a Funeral))
Alice tried to keep herself still as he raised his hands in the air. When every breath brought on new stabs of pain, it was easier said then done. His words faded to a distant drone and she tried to focus on keeping the gun trained on him instead of letting herself drop back to the sand like her body so desperately wanted to do. Anyway, it didn't matter what he had to say. He was going to leave, or she'd shoot him. If he was trying to talk his way out, to explain himself, whatever. She didn't care. He was lucky the cameras were watching.
So intent on getting him out of the area, Alice didn't even bother with getting his bag. At gunpoint, he'd be only too happy to contribute some donations to the Alice Survival Fund, she suspected. But, even if she was in better shape and not resigned to her current position, she probably wouldn't bother. Dallas had already made his contribution, and as such, she wouldn't need to resupply any time soon.
"Neither of us wants to kill anyone, right?"
She caught that bit, and it was enough to make her hand tighten on the grip of the revolver. She did want want to kill him, actually. He'd attacked her, bushwhacked her, fought her like a coward. She wanted him dead, and not only out of revenge. He'd made her weak, helpless. No matter how long it lasted, it was more then long enough. When he'd hit her, there was nothing she could do about aside from praying he didn't finish the job. It ignited a seething sort of rage in her that was hard to ignore. That side of her wanted to shoot him, to empty the gun into him. The part of her that wasn't barely suppressed rage said otherwise. Alice let him walk away with his bags, keeping the gun trained on him as he went.
The scarred woman waited, her gun raised toward the forest where he disappeared for near ten minutes after he left. Her arms began to tremble not halfway through that, but that helpless feeling from before drove her on. When she was satisfied she was alone, she crawled over to her bags with a pained grunt. Alice stared at where her food used to be with mute rage. That bastard had robbed her after all. Even after she was kind enough not to blow his brains out. It was a small consolation that the food and water was all he had stolen. All the same, Alice wanted to scream in frustration. Alice swore as she climbed gingerly to her feet and gathered her bag.
As she made her way to the treeline, Alice glanced at the beach once more. It occurred to her that most of the food stolen was from Dallas's bag in the first place. With a humorless grin, Alice turned her back on the ocean. Karma, you bitch.
((Alice Blake Continued in Death At a Funeral))