Where We Go One

[Outfoxd]

((DeMarcus Miller continued from Megaphone))

A thousand plans came and went in DeMarcus's mind, from the time he had left the top of the mountain onward. Go to the town, find that safehouse, and ransack it. Hide in the woods somewhere. Go back to the infirmary and reclaim it as his kingdom. These were courses of action that were discarded as soon as they came to him. On the top of the mountain, where everything had seemed to be going correctly, he had felt like a train firmly on rails and on schedule. But everything had gone wild and chaotic and just wrong since tha burst of violence and escape. The only thing that felt right had been the splash of blood from Marshall, or the impact of the gun on his skull. That had a reassurance to DeMarcus that he could do what was needed to be done even when everyone else was becoming untethered.

DeMarcus would not admit it, perhaps did not even know, that he was a ship unmoored and adrift because he was alone. He hadn't particularly liked Fred; he was quiet and injured and sort of useless, but he listened. He understood that DeMarcus was one of the only ones on the island that knew what was going on. And that made him invaluable.

DeMarcus also didn't know that was why he didn't wander too much when he came across the lake. He didn't know that was why, when the announcements started up again and even more casualties were announced, or, when he curled up next to someone's abandoned campsite each night next to a fire he could barely get started, he didn't move. Maybe he needed someone to bounce ideas off of. Maybe he thought he needed backup. Or maybe it was just that he had lost his nerve knowing everything could go south so fast.

He didn't know how long he spent there, crouched by the sheet of ice that had once been a lake trying to stay warm and nibbling away at whatever provisions he had. He had been paralyzed and for all that was possible he'd stay there forever. It held a certain appeal, to not leave and risk losing anything else. Ostensibly that meant losing his supplies or his life, but when he thought about what was important to maintain a grip on, his eyes always crept to the weapon that never left his side.

[midnight_twelve]

After searching for DeMarcus for so long, Fred thought he would be more relieved to finally find him. But he could only muster a weak grin as he skirted the frozen shore to approach.

“Yo.”

((Fred Hobbes continued from Megaphone))

Fred would never have caught up if he’d been able to sleep. But his leg wouldn’t let him, and he knew he might not wake up if he did, out here in the cold and with no one to keep watch. So he had stayed awake, limped night and day and night again. He had never felt so tired. When he watched horror movies as a kid, Fred used to stay up all night for a day or two afterwards until he was so exhausted he fell asleep in his dinner or something. Sometimes he had nightmares then, but they were never as bad as the nights spent too scared to sleep.

DeMarcus looked unhurt, if a little worse for wear. He still had the gun at his side. Fred had wondered if Marshall and DeMarcus’ fight had raged on after they left him on the mountain, but DeMarcus seemed unscathed and Marshall had survived at least as long as that morning’s announcements. Others hadn’t been so lucky, that asshole Quentin on the fourth day, his favourite cheerleader Rebekah on the fifth. Fred knew it would be any day now that he heard Richard’s name, or some other friend’s, or that they heard his instead. He'd been very lucky to survive this far, and much as he hated the guy for what he’d done to Dom, he knew DeMarcus and his gun were no small part of that. Hopefully he’d be able to catch some rest now they were reunited.

[Outfoxd]

DeMarcus jumped at the sound, eyes wide as he scanned around for the source and full of panic. His weapon hand came up but when his gaze came to rest on Fred, it relaxed. Fred came across the lake, still limping, still intact. Still there.

If there was relief in his voice, DeMarcus did his level best to clamp own on it. He thought he did a pretty fine job, all things considered.

"Where the fuck did you go?" He said. There wasn't as much acid in it as his words would have implied. "Matter of fact, how are you still alive without me keeping an eye on you?"

He had been sitting on a rock next to the campfire, and part of his ass was going numb. He shifted as much to alleviate the growing dead spot as he did to face Fred. If anyone was closely looking, they'd see the tension slowly draining from his shoulders.

[midnight_twelve]

“I was too slow. Lost track of you.”

If anything, it was a warmer welcome than Fred had expected. He sat down slowly across the campfire from DeMarcus, still managing a faint smile. He was almost as surprised as the other boy that he’d lasted so long on his own. They both knew Fred needed DeMarcus more than he needed Fred, though he didn’t like admitting it out loud. He dropped the smile.

“…got lucky, I guess. Didn’t really see anyone.”

Fred rapped his fingers on the rock, wondering what would have happened if he had. The chances of them being friendly were low; the number of killers out there had long since eclipsed the number of true friends Fred had. But then again, he hadn’t been searching for a friend. He’d been searching for DeMarcus; he’d been searching for a killer.

“Uh, did you? See anyone else, I mean?”

If he had, he’d at least shown enough restraint to avoid another appearance on the announcements.

[Outfoxd]

DeMarcus leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees,

"Must have. That's what you got going for you, for sure. Luck." He said, and gave a small laugh on the heels of that.

DeMarcus made a show of looking around at the environment and the surroundings at Fred's question. Other than each other, they were alone. Just as he had been for the past few days. DeMarcus shook his head before saying, "Not a fuckin' soul. Maybe they saw me from far off and knew not to come around. Maybe everybody up on the mountain got the word out."

He took a breath, smiled lightly. Then he pointed to Fred's leg. "Is that getting any better?"

[midnight_twelve]

Fred laughed along as convincingly as he could. He'd weathered worse jokes made at his expense, not that this was even a joke- he had got by on luck and luck alone. He reminded himself of that whenever he started to feel even slightly confident. Reminded himself that soon, that luck would run out, and he needed to be with someone who could protect him when it did. His eyes followed DeMarcus's across the empty lakeshore. Fred hoped he was right, that people were actively avoiding him. That would be the best kind of protection DeMarcus and his Deagle could be: a deterrent.

"Huh? Oh, my leg. Uh, it's bad now, but I haven't gotten much rest. Should, uh, ease up if I take the weight off it for a sec."

What Fred didn't admit was that it was unlikely to properly 'get better' any time soon. The doctor had said full recovery in two to three months, back in November when he'd sprained it. At the rate people were dying, the game would be long over by then.

[Outfoxd]

DeMarcus stared down at Fred's offending leg and as the other boy gave his explanation and he nodded grimly. His eyes drifted toward his hand and his weapon and, after a moment, he gave it another nod as if it had decided something.

"Well, then we'll settle here for." He shifted so that he took some of the weight to take some of the pressure off the numb part of his ass and smiled. Everything was falling back into place again and he was starting to be reassured.

"Lot more people getting popped off." He said conversationally. "Think if you're gonna stay injured we need to get you your own artillery. Gotta be some laying around with that many people dead."

[midnight_twelve]

Fred almost choked at DeMarcus’s reaction, seeing that grim nod and the telling look at his gun and fearing the worst. He imagined being put down like some injured horse or whatever and tensed up, ready to bolt for all the good it would do him. But if DeMarcus had even considered that course of action, he’d seemingly decided against it. If anything, he was willing to help Fred out.

Fred nodded along, slightly hesitantly, as DeMarcus planned to plunder their dead classmates. It was a good sign that DeMarcus still trusted him enough to try and set him up with a weapon, even if taking it from a corpse wouldn’t be pleasant. Fred also figured that any given corpse’s weapons would have probably been looted by whoever killed the guy in the first place, but chose not to poke any holes in DeMarcus’s plan and just be grateful.

“Uhhhh, thanks man. That would be… cool.”

Fred sat back and tried to relax, hoping DeMarcus wouldn’t change his mind about taking a rest. Maybe he’d even get some sleep.

[Outfoxd]

"Yeah," DeMarcus said. His eyes were going blank, as if he was disappearing into the field of his own thoughts. He was looking out over the lake now, letting it be some sort of visible stimulus for background as he went over his thoughts.

"Maybe into town like that prick on the mountain had said after all. I don't think he'll present any problems at least. Not anymore." He gave a wolfish smile, the points of his canines prominent in his grin. "He got dealt with, and hopefully for good. Haven't heard anything on the announcements but maybe he's taking a long time, you know."

He tilted his neck, working a dry pop out of the muscles. "If you have any suggestions or ideas, lay them out."

[midnight_twelve]

Something about DeMarcus asking him for suggestions made Fred uncomfortable. He wondered if the other guy was genuinely starting to trust him- first the promise of a weapon, now this. He felt more guilty all of a sudden, as if he was more actively responsible for what DeMarcus was doing now. Not just a hostage anymore.

Fred took a long look at DeMarcus and the lake beyond, feeling almost as much revulsion for the broken reflection in the ice as he did the monster who sat opposite him.

He closed his eyes, and both figures disappeared. The guilt stayed painted on the inside of his eyelids.

“…Uh, no ideas yet, bro.”

Fred yawned and kept his eyes closed.

“I’ll sleep on it.”

((Fred Hobbes concluded in Not Coming Home.))

[Outfoxd]

Fred didn't have any further input. Which was fine, for now. They could figure it out. They could figure it all out.

He went to sleep and DeMarcus watched him for a long time. Watched him as if he would disappear the moment he lost sight out of the other boy. When he was finally seemingly satisfied, he took a deep breath and set about getting his own rest.

He had no way of knowing it would be the last time he saw Fred.

((DeMarcus Miller continued elsewhere)).