((Morgan Leftowitz continued from Lonely American Nights))
It had been a long haul for Morgan Leftowitz. But he had finally made it. His feet were still damp as the swampy water turned into sandy beach but he could care less right now. The foggy morning made it hard to see, but he knew that the boat was nearby. He could smell the ocean, feel the breeze on his face. He and Jen were almost there.
He could feel his eyes drooping, there had been a lack of sleep through the last few days. Sleep was replaced by sheer drive. He had made a promise to the person that was still in his arms. A promise that they would make it off this island. They would go together, they would make it home.
He had intended to keep that promise.
"Alright..." he said, directing his words to Jen. "We're here. Just a moment."
Morgan gently dropped to his knees and propped her body up against his backpack. Her eyes were still open, blankly staring out into the morning looking up to the sky. Morgan had not closed them, not out of disrespect no. He just wanted her to see home again...
He took the gun with him, looping it on his shoulders and walked forwards into the mist. He could see the outline of the boat and began to run towards it as if it was the light at the end of the dark tunnel that this island had been.
Once he had made it through the fog though, his run started to slow to a halt. His jaw slacked and all the heat in his body had been ripped out of him.
"N-no...."
The boat. The place of refuge. The vessel that would take them to safety. The means for him to apologize for not being there. Was scuttled, a large hole in the middle of the boat.
"No..."
Float
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GregTheAnti-Viking*
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ZombiexCreame*
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((Josie Vernon continued from this topic contains serious koch))
There was a certain spring in Josie's step as she traipsed away from the gazebo with her new prize. She felt sort of renewed and invigorated, and she supposed that now was the second time that she felt like this on her stay at the island. Her first time was after the de- end of Sierra's tale, and Josie couldn't help but feel more relieved that her best friend was out of such terrible misery, but... That feeling was gone and was replaced by dread and other such horrible feelings. However, this feeling? Josie was hoping that it would never leave. If she could embrace this feeling of hope and inspiration and new beginnings, perhaps she could make something of her participation of this game.
Perhaps she could go on living the life that Sierra wouldn't have, and Sierra so would have wanted her to go on, right? Yeah, totally. If Josie was dead, she would have wished for all the best for her bestie. It was just how things worked in the way of friendship and whatnot. Some people said that friendship was a simple thing, but the red-haired girl did not exactly believe that. She actually found friendship rather complicated.
She had been walking the island with no particular goal in mind. There was no place she really wanted to go (although returning to the lighthouse didn't seem like such a terrible idea), and no one she exactly wanted to search out.. Sure, she had friends on the island (probably), but after the whole thing with Sierra, Josie hadn't really paid a lick of attention to them. Jessica, Alex, Nick, Andrea, other people that she kept a slight acquaintance with... They could possibly be dead. Josie tried not to let this bother her as she decided to put her attention into a new goal. She would find some companions.
Her previous attempts at finding companions honestly failed. Maxwell ran off somewhere, and Josie hadn't seen him since. He was dead, right? She could have sworn she heard his name. She could have sworn she felt sad about it too, but all of her emotions were mashed in a thick pea soup, and she couldn't really make sense of any of it.
Anywho, companions. Yes, she wanted to find someone. Josie had never been too keen about buddying up with people in real life, but she figured that she didn't have much time left, so she might as well spend her last moments, y'know, not alone. But where would people be? She decided to head towards the ocean. There could be people there, but, to be honest, there could be people anywhere. She would check, however.
Unfortunately, with no map in her possession, trying to get to the beach was an impossible task. Where the hell was her map? She'd definitely had it earlier. It was how she found the Gazebo... Fuck this. Well, whatever. This was an island. It wasn't like you could just walk in a straight line and it would go on forever. She would have to reach the shore sometime, and hopefully find some people in the process... and pray they aren't murderous. Or! Maybe pray they were murderous, because if Josie was considered murderous too, maybe they would get along. One big murderous friendship.
Her thoughts were wandering, her mind was spinning. It was probably the lack of sleep and the thirst, but like hell if she was going to drink the swampy water beneath her feet. A swamp. Wonderful. A swamp was not the beach, and... The air was getting misty. Even lovelier. Josie kept trucking forward, the sub machine gun tight in her grasp. It was getting heavy. A few times she considered chucking it in the swamp, but she thought that might be a little wasteful.
"N-no..."
It was rather distant, but Josie could have sworn she heard a voice. Somewhere far ahead, but it was really hard to see. She paused in her walking and looked around, realizing that she could hear the sound of the shore, the smell of the salt, the gritty feeling of the sand between her teeth - not really but almost - and it was just beyond this bog! Josie was tempted to run the few meters to the shore but stopped herself when she remembered that someone was possibly out there. She didn't want to freak them out or anything. This person could potentially become her companion.
She took a few slow and careful steps forward, trying not to make too much noise as she shuffled through the muddy ground beneath her feet. A figure came into view through the mist, but it was nearly impossible to make out any features. Possibly male, however.
She opened her mouth to speak but shut it quickly. She didn't want to frighten him or anything. Maybe she'd wait to see what he was doing.. It sounded like he was sorta distraught over something. Best to wait and see if he notices her first.
There was a certain spring in Josie's step as she traipsed away from the gazebo with her new prize. She felt sort of renewed and invigorated, and she supposed that now was the second time that she felt like this on her stay at the island. Her first time was after the de- end of Sierra's tale, and Josie couldn't help but feel more relieved that her best friend was out of such terrible misery, but... That feeling was gone and was replaced by dread and other such horrible feelings. However, this feeling? Josie was hoping that it would never leave. If she could embrace this feeling of hope and inspiration and new beginnings, perhaps she could make something of her participation of this game.
Perhaps she could go on living the life that Sierra wouldn't have, and Sierra so would have wanted her to go on, right? Yeah, totally. If Josie was dead, she would have wished for all the best for her bestie. It was just how things worked in the way of friendship and whatnot. Some people said that friendship was a simple thing, but the red-haired girl did not exactly believe that. She actually found friendship rather complicated.
She had been walking the island with no particular goal in mind. There was no place she really wanted to go (although returning to the lighthouse didn't seem like such a terrible idea), and no one she exactly wanted to search out.. Sure, she had friends on the island (probably), but after the whole thing with Sierra, Josie hadn't really paid a lick of attention to them. Jessica, Alex, Nick, Andrea, other people that she kept a slight acquaintance with... They could possibly be dead. Josie tried not to let this bother her as she decided to put her attention into a new goal. She would find some companions.
Her previous attempts at finding companions honestly failed. Maxwell ran off somewhere, and Josie hadn't seen him since. He was dead, right? She could have sworn she heard his name. She could have sworn she felt sad about it too, but all of her emotions were mashed in a thick pea soup, and she couldn't really make sense of any of it.
Anywho, companions. Yes, she wanted to find someone. Josie had never been too keen about buddying up with people in real life, but she figured that she didn't have much time left, so she might as well spend her last moments, y'know, not alone. But where would people be? She decided to head towards the ocean. There could be people there, but, to be honest, there could be people anywhere. She would check, however.
Unfortunately, with no map in her possession, trying to get to the beach was an impossible task. Where the hell was her map? She'd definitely had it earlier. It was how she found the Gazebo... Fuck this. Well, whatever. This was an island. It wasn't like you could just walk in a straight line and it would go on forever. She would have to reach the shore sometime, and hopefully find some people in the process... and pray they aren't murderous. Or! Maybe pray they were murderous, because if Josie was considered murderous too, maybe they would get along. One big murderous friendship.
Her thoughts were wandering, her mind was spinning. It was probably the lack of sleep and the thirst, but like hell if she was going to drink the swampy water beneath her feet. A swamp. Wonderful. A swamp was not the beach, and... The air was getting misty. Even lovelier. Josie kept trucking forward, the sub machine gun tight in her grasp. It was getting heavy. A few times she considered chucking it in the swamp, but she thought that might be a little wasteful.
"N-no..."
It was rather distant, but Josie could have sworn she heard a voice. Somewhere far ahead, but it was really hard to see. She paused in her walking and looked around, realizing that she could hear the sound of the shore, the smell of the salt, the gritty feeling of the sand between her teeth - not really but almost - and it was just beyond this bog! Josie was tempted to run the few meters to the shore but stopped herself when she remembered that someone was possibly out there. She didn't want to freak them out or anything. This person could potentially become her companion.
She took a few slow and careful steps forward, trying not to make too much noise as she shuffled through the muddy ground beneath her feet. A figure came into view through the mist, but it was nearly impossible to make out any features. Possibly male, however.
She opened her mouth to speak but shut it quickly. She didn't want to frighten him or anything. Maybe she'd wait to see what he was doing.. It sounded like he was sorta distraught over something. Best to wait and see if he notices her first.
(Celeste Beaumont continued from Lonely American Nights.)
If Celeste had looked ugly back in the swamp a few hours ago, she looked hideous now.
Mud and all sorts of gunk stuck to her body, making her once bright-red shirt a disgusting brown, and her pants and shoes were the same way. Her face was smeared with black-brown mud as well, from when she'd tried to wipe it off her face or dry her tears. Still more cakes her hair, there were a few stray bits of plantlife that had fallen from its original place and settled in her hair and gotten stuck by the mud, a few broken twigs in it...And on top of it all, Celeste was tired. So tired that her posture was terrible--she slouched, shuffled along, panted heavily...
Fuck, I knew I should have worked out more when I had the chance... she thought bitterly. Sex doesn't count!
More than once on their way out of the swamp and towards the sea, the tiny girl found herself wondering if she'd be mistaken for a swamp thing and shot. A tiny part of her actually hoped for it. Another part of her laughed at that part, said it was silly.
Curses never died of gunshot-wounds--it always took ages and ages of ritualistic cleansing and the like.
She turned her tired, bloodshot eyes towards Morgan, eyeing the dead body he carried. The guy had kept talking to it, sounding almost affectionate to Celeste's ears. Maybe the dead girl really was a good luck charm, he was speaking so kindly to it after all. "Where are we going?" she asked him, but her voice was so hoarse, throat so dry that there was no way he could have heard her. She briefly thought back to her water, remembering her adventure in the tunnels, with Pandora.
God that felt like forever ago.
Everything felt like forever ago.
Her partner suddenly stopped, and Celeste nearly bumped into him, falling once again to her knees. Damn it, she thought dully. At least it wasn't muddy and sticky. "Why'd we stop?" she rasped.
"N-No..."
"What?" Celeste moved around Morgan, looking past him. A boat. So his plan was to row them away? Excellent, why not leave right now? Then her eyes found the hole...they'd be killed if they tried.
Drowning was a terrible way to go.
Celeste's own blood ran cold as she stared. She'd done it again...without even meaning to, she'd done it. First was John--he was her boyfriend back home (Liar, a tiny voice whispered. She brushed it off), they'd slept together, and then he died on the island. There was her first companion, Kayla...she abandoned her and was probably dead. Pandora was dark already--she was safe. Tim had accepted her and was killed right after...
And now Morgan was accompaning her, and while he hadn't died, the boat he was planning to use was...un-usable.
"I did it again..." Celeste repeated, giggling slightly as her hands went to her head. "F-Fuck, I did it again, ho--how'dya like that?!" Dazedly grinning, she looked at Morgan. "N-N-Now...now what?!" she shrieked.
If Celeste had looked ugly back in the swamp a few hours ago, she looked hideous now.
Mud and all sorts of gunk stuck to her body, making her once bright-red shirt a disgusting brown, and her pants and shoes were the same way. Her face was smeared with black-brown mud as well, from when she'd tried to wipe it off her face or dry her tears. Still more cakes her hair, there were a few stray bits of plantlife that had fallen from its original place and settled in her hair and gotten stuck by the mud, a few broken twigs in it...And on top of it all, Celeste was tired. So tired that her posture was terrible--she slouched, shuffled along, panted heavily...
Fuck, I knew I should have worked out more when I had the chance... she thought bitterly. Sex doesn't count!
More than once on their way out of the swamp and towards the sea, the tiny girl found herself wondering if she'd be mistaken for a swamp thing and shot. A tiny part of her actually hoped for it. Another part of her laughed at that part, said it was silly.
Curses never died of gunshot-wounds--it always took ages and ages of ritualistic cleansing and the like.
She turned her tired, bloodshot eyes towards Morgan, eyeing the dead body he carried. The guy had kept talking to it, sounding almost affectionate to Celeste's ears. Maybe the dead girl really was a good luck charm, he was speaking so kindly to it after all. "Where are we going?" she asked him, but her voice was so hoarse, throat so dry that there was no way he could have heard her. She briefly thought back to her water, remembering her adventure in the tunnels, with Pandora.
God that felt like forever ago.
Everything felt like forever ago.
Her partner suddenly stopped, and Celeste nearly bumped into him, falling once again to her knees. Damn it, she thought dully. At least it wasn't muddy and sticky. "Why'd we stop?" she rasped.
"N-No..."
"What?" Celeste moved around Morgan, looking past him. A boat. So his plan was to row them away? Excellent, why not leave right now? Then her eyes found the hole...they'd be killed if they tried.
Drowning was a terrible way to go.
Celeste's own blood ran cold as she stared. She'd done it again...without even meaning to, she'd done it. First was John--he was her boyfriend back home (Liar, a tiny voice whispered. She brushed it off), they'd slept together, and then he died on the island. There was her first companion, Kayla...she abandoned her and was probably dead. Pandora was dark already--she was safe. Tim had accepted her and was killed right after...
And now Morgan was accompaning her, and while he hadn't died, the boat he was planning to use was...un-usable.
"I did it again..." Celeste repeated, giggling slightly as her hands went to her head. "F-Fuck, I did it again, ho--how'dya like that?!" Dazedly grinning, she looked at Morgan. "N-N-Now...now what?!" she shrieked.
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GregTheAnti-Viking*
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Morgan shuffled forwards through the sand. As if his moving closer would reveal to him how silly it was for the boat to not be shipshape and ready for sailing! But as he moved closer, the truth just grew before him.
He found himself unable to speak. The weight of what he saw had sewn his lips shut. He had wished to shout, to yell out, to scream, but it was in this moment he finally noticed how raw his throat had become. It felt dry, a growing itch developing inside that tickled his vocal chords.
And then he started to feel in all at once. His entire body cried out at him. His arms were limp at his side, yelling at him for foolishly carrying Jen over here, especially now that there was no boat. His legs were wobbling back and forth, struggling to keep his own weight afloat. How long had he walked? He tried crunching the numbers in his head, but now the numbers were just a blur. He had prided himself on knowing odds of poker and percentages, but he couldn't think of how many miles he had traveled. If he hadn't lugged Jen over in a fool's errand, maybe he could find the strength to stand straight.
Finally, he felt an emptiness in his stomach. He hadn't eaten anything in days; it just never came into his mind. He had a single goal at that time, eating could wait. Sleeping could wait. This emptiness in his stomach though, it didn't feel like it was just hunger. It felt like he had been punched in the gut with a pound of bricks.
Guilt.
Back when they were in the warehouse. He had promised that he would find a way off this island. Jen had counted on him to find the way to lead her to safety. She said that she loved him, and then she was dead. He still had aimed to keep the promise and so he took her with him. He never had the chance to say how he felt to Jen, so he was going to return her love by taking her home. It was the least he could do.
But even a task as simple as taking her to a working boat, had failed in the end.
Morgan realized he was crying, the moisture collecting on his thickening stubble. He dabbed at his face, fingers scraping across the uneven fuzz, but it wouldn't stem the tide. He hated having a beard. If only he could shave.
His arm dropped back to his side. And for a while, Morgan just stared at the boat. He watched as waves crashed through the open hole. Over and over, the waves rammed through the boat, as if it was just another part of the ocean.
It was then that he heard the giggling to his side. Giggling that woke him out of his hypnotized state. He turned down and looked at Celeste. How long had she been with him? Was she with him the whole time? He couldn't remember.
"N-N-Now...now what?!"
Morgan's hands balled into fists, they were shaking now. 'Now what'? There was no 'now what'? It was over! They were stuck here. And he had failed Jen. There wasn't any 'now what' that was left for him. He turned his head back to the boat and could feel the fire wanting to rise out from his throat.
Then, an idea came to him. He knew what he would do. He had to go to his backpack to get Jen's vodka. But he needed to be alone for this. What he was going to do was something between him and Jen. Celeste wouldn't understand it.
His hands fumbled around the strap of the rifle he had around his shoulder until he firmly gripped the handle with his right hand and placed his finger at the trigger, holding it in place. His thumb did not move an inch.
He turned to Celeste and pointed it at her.
"Leave me. I need to be alone. If you don't leave now..."
He aimed the gun so that the bayonet was pointing at Celeste's chest.
"I will shoot."
He held the gun there for a few seconds. Seconds that lasted for days in Morgan's mind. This task was for him and him alone. When Jen wasn't there, he always did things on his own.
Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted something in the fog. His eyes narrowed and he moved away from Celeste. In the distance was another person; someone else that had to leave this beach. Why was everyone here, why couldn't they just leave him and Jen alone? He just wanted to complete his job and then.
Peace.
He turned his gun towards the figure and started walking towards it.
"Get the fuck out of here!" he boomed, starting to rush out to scare it away. "Get the fuck out!"
He found himself unable to speak. The weight of what he saw had sewn his lips shut. He had wished to shout, to yell out, to scream, but it was in this moment he finally noticed how raw his throat had become. It felt dry, a growing itch developing inside that tickled his vocal chords.
And then he started to feel in all at once. His entire body cried out at him. His arms were limp at his side, yelling at him for foolishly carrying Jen over here, especially now that there was no boat. His legs were wobbling back and forth, struggling to keep his own weight afloat. How long had he walked? He tried crunching the numbers in his head, but now the numbers were just a blur. He had prided himself on knowing odds of poker and percentages, but he couldn't think of how many miles he had traveled. If he hadn't lugged Jen over in a fool's errand, maybe he could find the strength to stand straight.
Finally, he felt an emptiness in his stomach. He hadn't eaten anything in days; it just never came into his mind. He had a single goal at that time, eating could wait. Sleeping could wait. This emptiness in his stomach though, it didn't feel like it was just hunger. It felt like he had been punched in the gut with a pound of bricks.
Guilt.
Back when they were in the warehouse. He had promised that he would find a way off this island. Jen had counted on him to find the way to lead her to safety. She said that she loved him, and then she was dead. He still had aimed to keep the promise and so he took her with him. He never had the chance to say how he felt to Jen, so he was going to return her love by taking her home. It was the least he could do.
But even a task as simple as taking her to a working boat, had failed in the end.
Morgan realized he was crying, the moisture collecting on his thickening stubble. He dabbed at his face, fingers scraping across the uneven fuzz, but it wouldn't stem the tide. He hated having a beard. If only he could shave.
His arm dropped back to his side. And for a while, Morgan just stared at the boat. He watched as waves crashed through the open hole. Over and over, the waves rammed through the boat, as if it was just another part of the ocean.
It was then that he heard the giggling to his side. Giggling that woke him out of his hypnotized state. He turned down and looked at Celeste. How long had she been with him? Was she with him the whole time? He couldn't remember.
"N-N-Now...now what?!"
Morgan's hands balled into fists, they were shaking now. 'Now what'? There was no 'now what'? It was over! They were stuck here. And he had failed Jen. There wasn't any 'now what' that was left for him. He turned his head back to the boat and could feel the fire wanting to rise out from his throat.
Then, an idea came to him. He knew what he would do. He had to go to his backpack to get Jen's vodka. But he needed to be alone for this. What he was going to do was something between him and Jen. Celeste wouldn't understand it.
His hands fumbled around the strap of the rifle he had around his shoulder until he firmly gripped the handle with his right hand and placed his finger at the trigger, holding it in place. His thumb did not move an inch.
He turned to Celeste and pointed it at her.
"Leave me. I need to be alone. If you don't leave now..."
He aimed the gun so that the bayonet was pointing at Celeste's chest.
"I will shoot."
He held the gun there for a few seconds. Seconds that lasted for days in Morgan's mind. This task was for him and him alone. When Jen wasn't there, he always did things on his own.
Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted something in the fog. His eyes narrowed and he moved away from Celeste. In the distance was another person; someone else that had to leave this beach. Why was everyone here, why couldn't they just leave him and Jen alone? He just wanted to complete his job and then.
Peace.
He turned his gun towards the figure and started walking towards it.
"Get the fuck out of here!" he boomed, starting to rush out to scare it away. "Get the fuck out!"
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ZombiexCreame*
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Josie wasn't entirely sure what was happening beyond the thick fog, and she wasn't sure if she wanted to find out either. She could hear the distraught-sounding male occasionally make a sound (was he perhaps crying?), and the sound of waves crashing against the shore. She was so close to the beach that she'd been searching for. Hell, forget the beach. There was someone right before her! She could just stop being a baby and reveal herself. All it would take is a quick introduction and BAM! A companion! Someone to stick with and talk to and hide behind when things got tough.
There was still a part of Josie that was too paranoid to believe herself. As much as she wanted someone to group up with, she was still scared. This guy could be dangerous, but... Did it matter? She had this machine gun to protect herself with. He wouldn't dare shoot if she saw her holding this, would he? With a deep breath as she strengthened her resolve, Josie took a step forward... and froze.
There was someone else, she realized. A female was near the male, and she was talking quite loudly. Her voice was frantic, perhaps even hysteric. What the hell had happened? Various scenarios popped up in Josie's mind, but she didn't know all the details. Perhaps the two students were having some sort of argument? Or... Yeah, who the hell knew. She wasn't sure if she wanted to stick around to find out, part of her just wanting to walk away, but another part of her didn't want to leave. These two could be legit! They could be the kindest people she'd ever meet.
However, the next statement coming from the male made Josie reconsider that thought. She'd definitely heard him threaten to shoot the female. The red-haired scenester's world stopped for a moment, and her vision almost narrowed. There was nothing else in her reality aside from herself, those two students, and the fog that surrounded them. Was she going to have to witness someone shoot someone else? A girl, at that note?
Sure, it would be hard to see the details from here, but someone would be dead. Josie could have stopped the potential murderer! But if she ran now, there would be no stopping him. She didn't exactly want to play hero, no, but.. She knew where her priorities remained, and something inside of her begged her to save that poor girl. She had the means! She could definitely wave around this behemoth of a gun and get that murderous dude to do whatever she wanted. It would be simple.
Josie took a step forward, gun gripped tightly in her slightly-shaking hands. She took a deep breath and held it for a moment, trying to figure out what to do. Run into the scene with the gun raised? Walk slowly and calmly? She took another step, but her mind froze as a voice called out, loud and bold. Well, darn. She didn't account for this: the male finally noticed her.
And he was walking straight towards her.
Josie froze and held her gun tightly to her chest, teeth tugging slightly at her bottom lip. He was walking towards her! No, no! Go threaten that other girl some more! Josie was just... just part of the flora. She was just taking in the scenery, and... she definitely had the right to be here. The male didn't seem to believe so, screaming at her to get out.
"I-I-I didn't see-see your n-name anywhere.. I-I can be here i-if I want- and..."
Her stuttered voice slowed to a stop, and Josie took a deep breath, trying to think fast. She was failing miserably at coming up with actions extemporaneously. Yeah, she could heed his commands and run away, but if she did, he might kill that other girl. And really, what did she have to be afraid of? She had a machine gun! He should be afraid of her!
Yet, Morgan continued to walk forward, not pausing for a second in his intention to get Josie to flee, or... shoot her. He surely would! He was coming into view, the gun pointed right at her, Morgan's hand on the trigger. It seemed as if time stopped for a moment, mist swirling around Josie like something out of a horror film. She became aware that sounds were amplified, the sound of her own breathing, the sound of the beautiful birds above, and the sound of her gun firing off four or five times.
Five rapid-fire bangs that jerked her hand as she shot, but she didn't lose control of the gun. That would scare him. He wouldn't dare mess with her now, wouldn't dare try to shoot her... And if one of the bullets hit him? (which at the close range that Josie and Morgan were, it was highly probably that they hit their target) Well, this guy was asking for it, and maybe he'll have learned his lesson when he's begging for Josie to help him.
"Oh god, I sure hope he's okay. I didn't... I mean, I did... I just... Fuck."
She closed her eyes for a moment and sucked in her breath, waiting desperately to hear a cry or anything, really... Anything to prove that Morgan was or wasn't okay. She felt conflicted, but at the same time, sort of content with her decision to shoot her gun. It was self-defense after all, right?
She opened her eyes to survey the damage, heart thumping wildly. "Y-You alright...?" she remembered asking.
There was still a part of Josie that was too paranoid to believe herself. As much as she wanted someone to group up with, she was still scared. This guy could be dangerous, but... Did it matter? She had this machine gun to protect herself with. He wouldn't dare shoot if she saw her holding this, would he? With a deep breath as she strengthened her resolve, Josie took a step forward... and froze.
There was someone else, she realized. A female was near the male, and she was talking quite loudly. Her voice was frantic, perhaps even hysteric. What the hell had happened? Various scenarios popped up in Josie's mind, but she didn't know all the details. Perhaps the two students were having some sort of argument? Or... Yeah, who the hell knew. She wasn't sure if she wanted to stick around to find out, part of her just wanting to walk away, but another part of her didn't want to leave. These two could be legit! They could be the kindest people she'd ever meet.
However, the next statement coming from the male made Josie reconsider that thought. She'd definitely heard him threaten to shoot the female. The red-haired scenester's world stopped for a moment, and her vision almost narrowed. There was nothing else in her reality aside from herself, those two students, and the fog that surrounded them. Was she going to have to witness someone shoot someone else? A girl, at that note?
Sure, it would be hard to see the details from here, but someone would be dead. Josie could have stopped the potential murderer! But if she ran now, there would be no stopping him. She didn't exactly want to play hero, no, but.. She knew where her priorities remained, and something inside of her begged her to save that poor girl. She had the means! She could definitely wave around this behemoth of a gun and get that murderous dude to do whatever she wanted. It would be simple.
Josie took a step forward, gun gripped tightly in her slightly-shaking hands. She took a deep breath and held it for a moment, trying to figure out what to do. Run into the scene with the gun raised? Walk slowly and calmly? She took another step, but her mind froze as a voice called out, loud and bold. Well, darn. She didn't account for this: the male finally noticed her.
And he was walking straight towards her.
Josie froze and held her gun tightly to her chest, teeth tugging slightly at her bottom lip. He was walking towards her! No, no! Go threaten that other girl some more! Josie was just... just part of the flora. She was just taking in the scenery, and... she definitely had the right to be here. The male didn't seem to believe so, screaming at her to get out.
"I-I-I didn't see-see your n-name anywhere.. I-I can be here i-if I want- and..."
Her stuttered voice slowed to a stop, and Josie took a deep breath, trying to think fast. She was failing miserably at coming up with actions extemporaneously. Yeah, she could heed his commands and run away, but if she did, he might kill that other girl. And really, what did she have to be afraid of? She had a machine gun! He should be afraid of her!
Yet, Morgan continued to walk forward, not pausing for a second in his intention to get Josie to flee, or... shoot her. He surely would! He was coming into view, the gun pointed right at her, Morgan's hand on the trigger. It seemed as if time stopped for a moment, mist swirling around Josie like something out of a horror film. She became aware that sounds were amplified, the sound of her own breathing, the sound of the beautiful birds above, and the sound of her gun firing off four or five times.
Five rapid-fire bangs that jerked her hand as she shot, but she didn't lose control of the gun. That would scare him. He wouldn't dare mess with her now, wouldn't dare try to shoot her... And if one of the bullets hit him? (which at the close range that Josie and Morgan were, it was highly probably that they hit their target) Well, this guy was asking for it, and maybe he'll have learned his lesson when he's begging for Josie to help him.
"Oh god, I sure hope he's okay. I didn't... I mean, I did... I just... Fuck."
She closed her eyes for a moment and sucked in her breath, waiting desperately to hear a cry or anything, really... Anything to prove that Morgan was or wasn't okay. She felt conflicted, but at the same time, sort of content with her decision to shoot her gun. It was self-defense after all, right?
She opened her eyes to survey the damage, heart thumping wildly. "Y-You alright...?" she remembered asking.
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GregTheAnti-Viking*
- Posts: 267
- Joined: Sat Sep 01, 2018 6:10 am
Any forward momentum that Morgan had was gone when the first bolt of pain rifled through his right thigh. There was little time for him to react as two more bolts surged through his left shoulder and stomach. He found himself on the ground, staring up at the cloudless sky above him. Sound had vanished. Or had it? No. Morgan could hear something, endless ringing.
There was something wrong, Morgan could already sense it. Air. He needed air. He tried to suck in as much as possible but he couldn't seem to find anything. He tried again, and could only feel a wisp flow in.
Something was running down his arm and leg. It felt thick and foreign to him What was it? Sweat? He turned his head and saw the rosette that was blooming on his shoulder. Morgan reached at it and felt the thick red goo stick to his hands. He rubbed it between his hands. It was then that he made the connection.
He screamed. It was blood. His blood. He placed his right arm back to the stand and tried to force his body upwards, but the sand shifted under him. As soon as he pushed up he felt another wave of fire in his chest.
Air, more air, his chest raising up and down like a piston, Morgan could feel his breath becoming rushed, unfocused, uneven. There was a foul metallic taste building up around his throat, thick liquid surging up into his mouth causing him to cough the foul tasting mixture out into the sand. Red stains painted the coarse grains in front of him.
No. No please. Don't tell me I'm...
Tears were starting to flow down his face. They felt hot, stinging as they trickled down into the brown sand. Low moans rumbled out from his mouth morphing into full fledged sobs.
Dying?
He could feel the blood soaking through his shirt. The shirt that Jen had found for him. The only fond memory of her that he still had left.
Jen! Where was Jen? He tried twisting his head out to look for her, but there was only a wall of fog.
He had to get over to her. There was still another thing he had to do. He still needed to apologize. He still had to make things right. The vodka was with Jen. How was he going to burn the boat without the vodka?
The boat. The whole source of all of this pain and suffering. There was no way that he would have been able to go home now. No way he would be able to sail Jen away to safety. No way to even bring her back home for Mr. and Mrs. Romita. The world was a better place without that boat.
Morgan could see his rifle sprawled out to his left, still loosely strapped to his shoulder, the butt of it lying on his bleeding stomach. A crutch! His hand fumbled around the neck of the gun to pull it closer to him, he could feel his hand tightening around it, but his arm was unresponsive.
"Damnit" Morgan wheezed. The mere effort that it took to grab the gun had sent him into another coughing fit. Air. More fitful breaths.
He had to do it. It had to be him. His body was failing him. Why now?
A figure appeared from the fog. He tried to remember who the figure was. But any attempt to do so made his head hurt.
The red-haired girl asked him if he was alright. Those words seemed funny to him. Despite his desire to laugh, Morgan found himself crying more. His breathing was becoming more and more erratic.
He felt a chill starting to wash over him. Yet his chest, his shoulder, were still ablaze with fire. His leg-
I can't feel my leg!
Morgan let out a cry, a cry that nearly choked him. He hacked out another fresh round of blood mixed with spit that clung to his the stubble of his thickening beard.
It had come to this; he had truly failed now. If he couldn't move, he couldn't get to the bag, and if he couldn't get to the bag. That damn boat would still be floating there, taunting him.
He looked to the girl in front of him. An idea. She could do it. She could get the vodka and a cloth and a, what was that thing that lit a fire again? Lighter! Yes lighter! Then he just had to light it and throw it at that damn boat. She could just move him! Then he'd throw it. It was perfect..
In his mind, he had this long explanation. A list of instructions of what he had wanted, yet when he opened his mouth.
"Burn the boat!"
There was a silence between them. Morgan's pounding chest and erratic breath were the only things that permeated the lack of noise between them. Did she understand what he meant? She had to know didn't she?
"Please..."
Still no response.
Morgan couldn't look at the girl anymore. It hurt too much to do so. It was just better to look up at the sky.
Pain. Fire. Hot, yet cold.
Breathing, fainter now. Fading quickly.
I'm sorry Jen. I-I tried.
In. Out.
I wanted to take you home. I just. I just kept fucking it up.
In.
Out.
There was so many things I should have said. I'm sorry.
In.
Out.
I'm a damn fool.
In.
Out.
I'm so sorry Jen.
Squeeze. Something grabbed his right hand. He turned his head to look.
Nothing there. The pain was fading. Warmth. Something there.
"J-Jen?"
In...
B013: Morgan Leftowitz- Deceased
There was something wrong, Morgan could already sense it. Air. He needed air. He tried to suck in as much as possible but he couldn't seem to find anything. He tried again, and could only feel a wisp flow in.
Something was running down his arm and leg. It felt thick and foreign to him What was it? Sweat? He turned his head and saw the rosette that was blooming on his shoulder. Morgan reached at it and felt the thick red goo stick to his hands. He rubbed it between his hands. It was then that he made the connection.
He screamed. It was blood. His blood. He placed his right arm back to the stand and tried to force his body upwards, but the sand shifted under him. As soon as he pushed up he felt another wave of fire in his chest.
Air, more air, his chest raising up and down like a piston, Morgan could feel his breath becoming rushed, unfocused, uneven. There was a foul metallic taste building up around his throat, thick liquid surging up into his mouth causing him to cough the foul tasting mixture out into the sand. Red stains painted the coarse grains in front of him.
No. No please. Don't tell me I'm...
Tears were starting to flow down his face. They felt hot, stinging as they trickled down into the brown sand. Low moans rumbled out from his mouth morphing into full fledged sobs.
Dying?
He could feel the blood soaking through his shirt. The shirt that Jen had found for him. The only fond memory of her that he still had left.
Jen! Where was Jen? He tried twisting his head out to look for her, but there was only a wall of fog.
He had to get over to her. There was still another thing he had to do. He still needed to apologize. He still had to make things right. The vodka was with Jen. How was he going to burn the boat without the vodka?
The boat. The whole source of all of this pain and suffering. There was no way that he would have been able to go home now. No way he would be able to sail Jen away to safety. No way to even bring her back home for Mr. and Mrs. Romita. The world was a better place without that boat.
Morgan could see his rifle sprawled out to his left, still loosely strapped to his shoulder, the butt of it lying on his bleeding stomach. A crutch! His hand fumbled around the neck of the gun to pull it closer to him, he could feel his hand tightening around it, but his arm was unresponsive.
"Damnit" Morgan wheezed. The mere effort that it took to grab the gun had sent him into another coughing fit. Air. More fitful breaths.
He had to do it. It had to be him. His body was failing him. Why now?
A figure appeared from the fog. He tried to remember who the figure was. But any attempt to do so made his head hurt.
The red-haired girl asked him if he was alright. Those words seemed funny to him. Despite his desire to laugh, Morgan found himself crying more. His breathing was becoming more and more erratic.
He felt a chill starting to wash over him. Yet his chest, his shoulder, were still ablaze with fire. His leg-
I can't feel my leg!
Morgan let out a cry, a cry that nearly choked him. He hacked out another fresh round of blood mixed with spit that clung to his the stubble of his thickening beard.
It had come to this; he had truly failed now. If he couldn't move, he couldn't get to the bag, and if he couldn't get to the bag. That damn boat would still be floating there, taunting him.
He looked to the girl in front of him. An idea. She could do it. She could get the vodka and a cloth and a, what was that thing that lit a fire again? Lighter! Yes lighter! Then he just had to light it and throw it at that damn boat. She could just move him! Then he'd throw it. It was perfect..
In his mind, he had this long explanation. A list of instructions of what he had wanted, yet when he opened his mouth.
"Burn the boat!"
There was a silence between them. Morgan's pounding chest and erratic breath were the only things that permeated the lack of noise between them. Did she understand what he meant? She had to know didn't she?
"Please..."
Still no response.
Morgan couldn't look at the girl anymore. It hurt too much to do so. It was just better to look up at the sky.
Pain. Fire. Hot, yet cold.
Breathing, fainter now. Fading quickly.
I'm sorry Jen. I-I tried.
In. Out.
I wanted to take you home. I just. I just kept fucking it up.
In.
Out.
There was so many things I should have said. I'm sorry.
In.
Out.
I'm a damn fool.
In.
Out.
I'm so sorry Jen.
Squeeze. Something grabbed his right hand. He turned his head to look.
Nothing there. The pain was fading. Warmth. Something there.
"J-Jen?"
In...
B013: Morgan Leftowitz- Deceased
Celeste hadn't moved, just staring him down. She was breathing heavier than normal, but that was to be expected, given the current situation. But aside from that, she showed no reaction to having a gun pointed at her. You can't kill me she wanted to say, but the words didn't come out, You can't kill curses with guns. It doesn't work that way. You have to do more than that. No matter how many bullets you fire into me, I'm not gonna die. And then you'll be es-oh-ell, because you wasted all your bullets on Cursed Superman or whatever.
She wanted to say all that, but she didn't. Celeste just stared straight ahead as Morgan walked past her, shouting at someone else--new arrival. Shit. She'd curse them too now!
Celeste only turned around when she heard gunfire. Who was being shot, her, the new person, or Morgan?
Morgan.
I can't do anything... Celeste thought, looking away again and covering her eyes. If I come near you, I'll make it worse! The bullets will....will, I dunno--fucking explode and then you'll die even more painfully! I'm sorry, I can't come near, I can't, I can't I can't--
"Burn the boat!"
"What...?" Celeste mumbled, turning around again, swallowing back tears. Morgan just lay there, adding a "please," and Celeste...just sat there. Stared. She wanted to. She wanted to do what he said, but...Will it be okay? Is it okay for me to touch the boat too?
".....kay..." she whispered, nodding.
And that was it for Morgan. She didn't hear him breathing anymore.
Celeste didn't move for a long time, staring at Morgan's corpse without really seeing it. At least he'd lasted longer than the other guy...Small comfort as it was. She looked up at the new person--a girl--and scooted away a bit. "You should stay away from me," she said flatly. "I killed him."
You'd only be next.
She wanted to say all that, but she didn't. Celeste just stared straight ahead as Morgan walked past her, shouting at someone else--new arrival. Shit. She'd curse them too now!
Celeste only turned around when she heard gunfire. Who was being shot, her, the new person, or Morgan?
Morgan.
I can't do anything... Celeste thought, looking away again and covering her eyes. If I come near you, I'll make it worse! The bullets will....will, I dunno--fucking explode and then you'll die even more painfully! I'm sorry, I can't come near, I can't, I can't I can't--
"Burn the boat!"
"What...?" Celeste mumbled, turning around again, swallowing back tears. Morgan just lay there, adding a "please," and Celeste...just sat there. Stared. She wanted to. She wanted to do what he said, but...Will it be okay? Is it okay for me to touch the boat too?
".....kay..." she whispered, nodding.
And that was it for Morgan. She didn't hear him breathing anymore.
Celeste didn't move for a long time, staring at Morgan's corpse without really seeing it. At least he'd lasted longer than the other guy...Small comfort as it was. She looked up at the new person--a girl--and scooted away a bit. "You should stay away from me," she said flatly. "I killed him."
You'd only be next.
-
ZombiexCreame*
- Posts: 305
- Joined: Sat Sep 01, 2018 6:29 am
Josie stared down at her victim, eyes wide and hands shaking. She kept a tight grip on her gun, but her hands were beginning to become clammy at the thought of actually harming this poor guy. He was okay, right? She didn't mean to hurt him, he just wanted to scare him off. Keeping him away from that other girl. He wasn't exactly a poor guy, no, he was more a danger, but... Josie never meant to harm anyone.
She became aware that her eyes were clenched tightly shut, refusing to accept that the male had been shot by her. The sound of his scream sent her eyes flying open, and she staggered back at the sharp contrast of red against the mix of sandy and swampy ground. He had... various wounds and they all came from her gun. Her heart was now hammering wildly in her chest, and she decided that if her heart had wings, it would most definitely fly out of her throat and off into the sky above.
And now he was coughing blood. Josie didn't pay much attention during health lectures, but she was fairly certain that coughing up blood was a terrible, terrible sign. It meant that death was near, and she felt completely conflicted. Should she feel surprised? Death was so rampant on this island, and in his hostile state, he would have been killed anyone. That girl might have done him in if Josie hadn't.
It was all a mechanism to cope with this horrific sight, the eventual death of Morgan. It was a mechanism to cope with another death that felt similar to Sierra's in some ways, but so different in others. She didn't want to see someone else die, she didn't want to see their twisted face of agony, and at this mere thought, she groaned and covered her eyes.
He didn't have much time left.
His crackling voice sent Josie's eyes fluttering open again, and she noticed that he was grasping his gun, but the effort sent him into a coughing fit. "J-Just relax.." Josie said quietly, taking a step forward. "Trying to move too much and stuff is just going to make it worse.. I-I'm really sorry, but I was scared, and.. You don't blame me, right?"
She paused, flashed a pain-filled grimace in his direction. "I, uh, geez, I'd use my first-aid kit, but I left it behind somewhere." Josie shut herself up as she realized that Morgan was speaking, but she couldn't exactly tell if he was speaking to her or the other girl. She supposed that either of them were candidates for his final words, so she listened carefully. He talked of burning the boat, and Josie simply chalked it up to insanity. He was losing his head along with his life. He was delusional and feverish, unsure of what he was talking about.
Why burn a boat? It wouldn't matter anyway. There were better things to focus on than burning a damn boat, for example, Morgan himself. Josie turned towards him and knelt down, awkwardly trying to make some move to assist him in some way, but without first-aid supplies, it was a near impossible task. His breath became ragged and pained, very slow. Josie knew he was on his last legs, and she tried not to feel guilty.
"I'm so sorry, really, I-I didn't mean- I'm sorry," she choked out, shutting her eyes and letting a stray tear or two fall from behind her lids. When she opened her eyes again, she was sure he was gone. His breathing had stopped, yet he looked peaceful, as if he were merely sleeping.
His misery was over, and Josie was personally responsible for putting him out of it. It was just like Sierra and over time, she would come to terms with it. She wouldn't feel guilty anymore. She would feel good. But for now... mourning seemed appropriate.
"You should stay away from me. I killed him."
Josie looked over at Celeste and quirked an eyebrow, unsure if she wanted to engage in Celeste's games of pity and insanity. A normal person would try to convince Celeste that she had done nothing of the sort, but Josie didn't exactly want to shoulder the blame either. Best to let this stranger do most of the heavy lifting.
"Did you? I could have sworn that I pulled the trigger, but I wasn't entirely sure. Thanks for clearing it up." She hadn't meant for it to come off that sarcastic, but it had. "Well, I'm gunna head out. I don't think it's in my best interest to burn any boats.."
She became aware that her eyes were clenched tightly shut, refusing to accept that the male had been shot by her. The sound of his scream sent her eyes flying open, and she staggered back at the sharp contrast of red against the mix of sandy and swampy ground. He had... various wounds and they all came from her gun. Her heart was now hammering wildly in her chest, and she decided that if her heart had wings, it would most definitely fly out of her throat and off into the sky above.
And now he was coughing blood. Josie didn't pay much attention during health lectures, but she was fairly certain that coughing up blood was a terrible, terrible sign. It meant that death was near, and she felt completely conflicted. Should she feel surprised? Death was so rampant on this island, and in his hostile state, he would have been killed anyone. That girl might have done him in if Josie hadn't.
It was all a mechanism to cope with this horrific sight, the eventual death of Morgan. It was a mechanism to cope with another death that felt similar to Sierra's in some ways, but so different in others. She didn't want to see someone else die, she didn't want to see their twisted face of agony, and at this mere thought, she groaned and covered her eyes.
He didn't have much time left.
His crackling voice sent Josie's eyes fluttering open again, and she noticed that he was grasping his gun, but the effort sent him into a coughing fit. "J-Just relax.." Josie said quietly, taking a step forward. "Trying to move too much and stuff is just going to make it worse.. I-I'm really sorry, but I was scared, and.. You don't blame me, right?"
She paused, flashed a pain-filled grimace in his direction. "I, uh, geez, I'd use my first-aid kit, but I left it behind somewhere." Josie shut herself up as she realized that Morgan was speaking, but she couldn't exactly tell if he was speaking to her or the other girl. She supposed that either of them were candidates for his final words, so she listened carefully. He talked of burning the boat, and Josie simply chalked it up to insanity. He was losing his head along with his life. He was delusional and feverish, unsure of what he was talking about.
Why burn a boat? It wouldn't matter anyway. There were better things to focus on than burning a damn boat, for example, Morgan himself. Josie turned towards him and knelt down, awkwardly trying to make some move to assist him in some way, but without first-aid supplies, it was a near impossible task. His breath became ragged and pained, very slow. Josie knew he was on his last legs, and she tried not to feel guilty.
"I'm so sorry, really, I-I didn't mean- I'm sorry," she choked out, shutting her eyes and letting a stray tear or two fall from behind her lids. When she opened her eyes again, she was sure he was gone. His breathing had stopped, yet he looked peaceful, as if he were merely sleeping.
His misery was over, and Josie was personally responsible for putting him out of it. It was just like Sierra and over time, she would come to terms with it. She wouldn't feel guilty anymore. She would feel good. But for now... mourning seemed appropriate.
"You should stay away from me. I killed him."
Josie looked over at Celeste and quirked an eyebrow, unsure if she wanted to engage in Celeste's games of pity and insanity. A normal person would try to convince Celeste that she had done nothing of the sort, but Josie didn't exactly want to shoulder the blame either. Best to let this stranger do most of the heavy lifting.
"Did you? I could have sworn that I pulled the trigger, but I wasn't entirely sure. Thanks for clearing it up." She hadn't meant for it to come off that sarcastic, but it had. "Well, I'm gunna head out. I don't think it's in my best interest to burn any boats.."
At Josie's comment, Celeste just nodded, smiling a little bit in relief. So the other girl wasn't going to try and convince her otherwise and she wasn't even going to stick around.
Thank God. She wouldn't bring more misfortune to another person.
"Yeah...yeah you can do that..." she whispered, still not looking at Josie.
Her eyes remained on Morgan's body. She briefly wondered if she was supposed to burn him too, as well as the boat. Maybe he had intended to have a Viking funeral and that was why he wanted it burned. Her mind still wandering elsewhere, anywhere but her own cursed-nature, Celeste asked herself if she could even lift him. A dead person was supposed to heavier, weren't they? Like a sleeping person...
Shaking her head a little to bring herself back to the current situation, Celeste rose to her feet, shuffling forward and bending down to grab Morgan under the arms. She grit her teeth, strained...and nothing. The tiny girl fell back down, cursing softly. Fuck...
Hey...why was she so calm now anyway?
"Wait," she called out, finally looking up at the only other living person there. "Before you go...do you at least have matches on you? I was never a Girl Scout, I don't know how to make fire with two sticks or anything." She paused, wondering if it was safe for Josie to be near just enough to move Morgan's body. No, probably not. After all, look at what happened with Tim. Celeste would have to either just pull a muscle moving his corpse...
...or just leave him there. Maybe burn the body where it lay.
"I won't ask you for anything else but matches. Or a lighter...just throw something over and it will be safe, just give me something."
Thank God. She wouldn't bring more misfortune to another person.
"Yeah...yeah you can do that..." she whispered, still not looking at Josie.
Her eyes remained on Morgan's body. She briefly wondered if she was supposed to burn him too, as well as the boat. Maybe he had intended to have a Viking funeral and that was why he wanted it burned. Her mind still wandering elsewhere, anywhere but her own cursed-nature, Celeste asked herself if she could even lift him. A dead person was supposed to heavier, weren't they? Like a sleeping person...
Shaking her head a little to bring herself back to the current situation, Celeste rose to her feet, shuffling forward and bending down to grab Morgan under the arms. She grit her teeth, strained...and nothing. The tiny girl fell back down, cursing softly. Fuck...
Hey...why was she so calm now anyway?
"Wait," she called out, finally looking up at the only other living person there. "Before you go...do you at least have matches on you? I was never a Girl Scout, I don't know how to make fire with two sticks or anything." She paused, wondering if it was safe for Josie to be near just enough to move Morgan's body. No, probably not. After all, look at what happened with Tim. Celeste would have to either just pull a muscle moving his corpse...
...or just leave him there. Maybe burn the body where it lay.
"I won't ask you for anything else but matches. Or a lighter...just throw something over and it will be safe, just give me something."
-
ZombiexCreame*
- Posts: 305
- Joined: Sat Sep 01, 2018 6:29 am
Josie nodded at Celeste when the girl didn't offer any reservations about her departure. She awkwardly fumbled with her gun for a moment, trying to decide where she should go next. Her previous goal had been to locate some people and join them, but that had ended most disastrously. There was a person right before her, and Josie realized that she could try to join her as a companion, but... No, it was too soon. She didn't want to team up with another girl. It would be too eerily like herself and Sierra. This girl already seemed like she had some obvious problems. Best not to stick around.
It was around that moment that Josie decided that companions were irrelevant. If she met someone that she clicked with, great. If she didn't, that was okay too. She'd already lost that boy she joined days ago (Max, right?), and Sierra was gone too, so... Who's to say that she wouldn't lose the next person she paired up with?
When she looked up again, Josie realized that the girl was trying to move Morgan's body. This was almost funny to watch, as Celeste was so ridiculously tiny. Josie could have offered to help, yeah, she was definitely larger than Celeste, but... She didn't see much point. He was dead. Why did the location of his corpse change anything?
She would have voiced her opinion, but Celeste suddenly stopped her and asked for matches. Matches? Josie felt like the deus ex machina inside of her was begging her to produce matches from her pocket and hand it over, but she really didn't have anything of the sort. And even if she did, she'd left it behind with all of her other things at Sierra's side. Literally, all she had was her gun and the birthday invite.
"Ummm, no. Sorry," Josie said, using her free hand to run through her knotted red hair. The closest thing she would have had was pepper spray, but yeah... That was still with Sierra, and still.. probably wouldn't start a fire. "All I have is my gun, and this." She carefully pulled out the birthday invite and showed it to Celeste. "No matches.. Maybe if you found someone with glasses, you could try to start a fire. That's how they started a fire in Lord of the Flies... Did you ever read that book?" she asked.
But Josie felt bad. She really did want to help Celeste out, the girl looked desperate. "Is there anything else I can help with? If you have no way to start a fire, there's really no reason to hang around. Jus' sayin'." There was an awkward pause and without another word, the red-headed scenester turned around and walked away, back through the forest.
((Josie Vernon continued elsewhere))
It was around that moment that Josie decided that companions were irrelevant. If she met someone that she clicked with, great. If she didn't, that was okay too. She'd already lost that boy she joined days ago (Max, right?), and Sierra was gone too, so... Who's to say that she wouldn't lose the next person she paired up with?
When she looked up again, Josie realized that the girl was trying to move Morgan's body. This was almost funny to watch, as Celeste was so ridiculously tiny. Josie could have offered to help, yeah, she was definitely larger than Celeste, but... She didn't see much point. He was dead. Why did the location of his corpse change anything?
She would have voiced her opinion, but Celeste suddenly stopped her and asked for matches. Matches? Josie felt like the deus ex machina inside of her was begging her to produce matches from her pocket and hand it over, but she really didn't have anything of the sort. And even if she did, she'd left it behind with all of her other things at Sierra's side. Literally, all she had was her gun and the birthday invite.
"Ummm, no. Sorry," Josie said, using her free hand to run through her knotted red hair. The closest thing she would have had was pepper spray, but yeah... That was still with Sierra, and still.. probably wouldn't start a fire. "All I have is my gun, and this." She carefully pulled out the birthday invite and showed it to Celeste. "No matches.. Maybe if you found someone with glasses, you could try to start a fire. That's how they started a fire in Lord of the Flies... Did you ever read that book?" she asked.
But Josie felt bad. She really did want to help Celeste out, the girl looked desperate. "Is there anything else I can help with? If you have no way to start a fire, there's really no reason to hang around. Jus' sayin'." There was an awkward pause and without another word, the red-headed scenester turned around and walked away, back through the forest.
((Josie Vernon continued elsewhere))
The girl didn't have any matches. She offered other help, but Celeste couldn't accept. That would just get this girl killed, like everyone else. The curse was running strong. The safest thing was probably to just disengage and hope the girl went away. So Celeste did, and it worked. The girl left. Probably went to go die or something.
Celeste sighed, and sat unmoving for a long while. She was going to just turn and go, but she decided to take inventory one more time, to just look through the stuff and see if she could find some way to light a fire. She owed it to Morgan, in a way. Her curse had killed him, after all.
To her surprise, there was a lighter in the first aid kit. Maybe it had been there the whole time, and she just hadn't noticed. Whatever the reason, she had it now, and she could carry out his wish.
In the end, though, moving him just wasn't something she'd be able to do, much less moving him and the other girl. He'd cared for the dead girl, and Celeste didn't think he'd want to be parted from her in death. That just left the boat. Maybe she could burn it for him anyways. It would be a proxy funeral, or something. Yeah. She could just burn it all. So she made her way to the boat, and started looking for something flammable. Finally, she found a rope. That would start things off well, right?
She clicked the lighter. It took several tries to light it. She lowered it to the rope, and nothing happened. The sea air was too damp, the rope a bit soggy. This was stupid. Pointless.
She sat down on the deck, totally miserable and dejected.
The night passed, and the morning announcements came. She listened to them, not even paying that much attention. The danger zones didn't register at all, at least, not until her collar began to beep.
That got her moving in a hurry, a stream of profanities racing through her mind. This was bad. No, this was awful.
She jumped from the deck of the partially-sunken ship, ready to race as far from here as she could get, into the swamp.
It didn't work out that way. She landed bad, hard, on her ankle at the wrong angle. Her leg collapsed under her, dropping her face first into the sand. The beeping was accelerating. Her ankle felt like it was on fire. She couldn't have broken it, right? No. No no no. Not this. This wasn't fair.
Her curse applied to other people. It wasn't for her. This wasn't right.
She tried to get up, but it just resulted in more pain. Maybe it wasn't broken. She could still move it. Maybe it was just a really bad sprain. Maybe it would be better in an hour. She didn't have an hour, though. She had maybe a few minutes. The beeping was getting faster and faster, and she couldn't walk, could barely even crawl. She tried to get further, to get away, but she wasn't getting any speed.
She wasn't going to make it. It was clear. After being carried so far by luck, Celeste's had finally run dry. She wondered if she'd get to see John again. Maybe that wouldn't be so bad. Maybe none of this would be so terrible.
For now, though, she stopped trying to flee. She just sat up, her hand on her aching ankle. She was near Morgan and the girl. She looked at him. He was the last victim of her curse. Well, unless the girl was dead. Any way it went, her status as a danger to others was at an end. She just wished there was someone with her, Kayla or Meredith or someone.
But there wasn't, and no one would come, so she sat with the bodies as the beeping increased and then, abruptly, stopped.
Celeste sighed, and sat unmoving for a long while. She was going to just turn and go, but she decided to take inventory one more time, to just look through the stuff and see if she could find some way to light a fire. She owed it to Morgan, in a way. Her curse had killed him, after all.
To her surprise, there was a lighter in the first aid kit. Maybe it had been there the whole time, and she just hadn't noticed. Whatever the reason, she had it now, and she could carry out his wish.
In the end, though, moving him just wasn't something she'd be able to do, much less moving him and the other girl. He'd cared for the dead girl, and Celeste didn't think he'd want to be parted from her in death. That just left the boat. Maybe she could burn it for him anyways. It would be a proxy funeral, or something. Yeah. She could just burn it all. So she made her way to the boat, and started looking for something flammable. Finally, she found a rope. That would start things off well, right?
She clicked the lighter. It took several tries to light it. She lowered it to the rope, and nothing happened. The sea air was too damp, the rope a bit soggy. This was stupid. Pointless.
She sat down on the deck, totally miserable and dejected.
The night passed, and the morning announcements came. She listened to them, not even paying that much attention. The danger zones didn't register at all, at least, not until her collar began to beep.
That got her moving in a hurry, a stream of profanities racing through her mind. This was bad. No, this was awful.
She jumped from the deck of the partially-sunken ship, ready to race as far from here as she could get, into the swamp.
It didn't work out that way. She landed bad, hard, on her ankle at the wrong angle. Her leg collapsed under her, dropping her face first into the sand. The beeping was accelerating. Her ankle felt like it was on fire. She couldn't have broken it, right? No. No no no. Not this. This wasn't fair.
Her curse applied to other people. It wasn't for her. This wasn't right.
She tried to get up, but it just resulted in more pain. Maybe it wasn't broken. She could still move it. Maybe it was just a really bad sprain. Maybe it would be better in an hour. She didn't have an hour, though. She had maybe a few minutes. The beeping was getting faster and faster, and she couldn't walk, could barely even crawl. She tried to get further, to get away, but she wasn't getting any speed.
She wasn't going to make it. It was clear. After being carried so far by luck, Celeste's had finally run dry. She wondered if she'd get to see John again. Maybe that wouldn't be so bad. Maybe none of this would be so terrible.
For now, though, she stopped trying to flee. She just sat up, her hand on her aching ankle. She was near Morgan and the girl. She looked at him. He was the last victim of her curse. Well, unless the girl was dead. Any way it went, her status as a danger to others was at an end. She just wished there was someone with her, Kayla or Meredith or someone.
But there wasn't, and no one would come, so she sat with the bodies as the beeping increased and then, abruptly, stopped.
G042, Celeste Beaumont: DECEASED
44 STUDENTS REMAIN
44 STUDENTS REMAIN
