Survival Of The Fittest

Bert's eyes widened. A hit? That sounded serious. It also didn't sound at all like it made any sense. Camilla said that she was with Max Rudolph, and Max Rudolph wasn't another girl. Who was the little dude? Had to be Zach. That was literally the only person that came to mind below five feet tall that wasn't a girl. Zach, Camilla, it just didn't make sense.

What made more sense was that Katelynne had her facts wrong.

"Are you sure we're talking about the same girl?" Bert asked, "Couldn't you be thinking of, uh, one of the other Camilla's? Like the Spanish one? Because the Camilla I was with, she didn't have any blood on her, and she said she was in a group with Max Rudolph. Y'know, the conservative alt-right-y guy. And as far as I'm aware I don't think Max is a girl."

...

Okay, Bert was practically asking for that mental picture, but that didn't mean she wanted it. And now she'd never get it out of her head.

"...Eh?"

More than one Camilla? In hindsight, guess that was sorta plausible. Some girl Cammy was on the announcements this morning, but Katelynne didn't really stop to consider if that was abridged or not. They used Ronald's short name, so guess it was sorta plausible.

But that kid specifically said Camilla. There was no doubt.

Regardless of these mental gymnastics, who was to say she wasn't lying and playing Liberty like a fool, too? Maybe she was the one who didn't have the right facts.

"Are ya sure it couldn't be the same Camilla we're talking about?" Katelynne asked, her voice now slightly raised. Her chair scraped the wood flooring as she subconsciously pulled forward. "How do ya know she's been open with you?"

Bert's attempts at destroying Katie with facts and logic were coming undone pretty easily. How did she know that Camilla wasn't the one that Katie was talking about? Maybe it was just wishful thinking on Bert's part, since she thought that Camilla was cute and didn't want to believe that much bad could come of being her friend because admittedly, Bert really didn't have too much else going for her at this point. Like, basically nothing.

"You might be right," Bert said, tilting her head to the side slightly, "but I don't actually know enough to say either way. If it makes you feel any better, it's not like she knows where I am."

Of course, a better objection to this whole thing was that it just wasn't really in character for Camilla to be doing something like that. But Bert wouldn't raise that, because it wouldn't work on someone who didn't actually know who Camilla is.

"All's I'm saying is, I don't have much reason to believe that anything happened, and I haven't seen anything to suggest to me that anything happened. Yeah? That's fair?"

"Fine," Katelynne grumbled, things certainly not. Her hands folded on the table, nails rapping on the map. "Please be careful, anyway. People can surprise you with what they'd be willing to do to have a fool's chance outta here."

Tirzah. Kelly. Nona (what was up with that Marco line?). Those names still hurt.

She huffed, eyes falling back on the yearbook. She didn't remember closing it, but maybe she just didn't notice. Not like that was a life or death detail or anything that substantial, though.

"Anyway feel free to stay the night, or until the storm passes or whenever. I'm heading out in the morning; got things to do, myself."

"Okay!" Bert said, "I'll just take a spot on the couch, then, if that's ok."

She walked over to the couch and put her drill down on the nearby coffee table. She wasn't dry yet, but she was fairly tired, so she could deal with the still fairly wet clothes.

"If I'm not awake when you go, maybe wake me up?" she asked, "I want to get an early start on looking for Camilla. Who knows where the hell she went, right?"

Bert did a little hop into the air and flopped onto the couch.

"See you tomorrow?"

"Yeah, sure," Katelynne replied, turning back to the table after watching Liberty collapse on the couch. Poor thing must've really been tired, though it made sense if she'd been wandering around in the rain for hours. Hopefully she didn't catch a cold or something.

Katelynne stared back out the window for a moment before quietly and discreetly gathering some things off the table: the map, and better-than-nothing stick. Left the bread and yearbook out, though, in case Liberty got hungry or wanted reading material.

She took one small detour, unlocking and opening the door and doing another quick scan outside before retiring in the bedroom section of the shack.

Tomorrow was gonna be another busy day.

Bert settled in and closed her eyes. She usually had an easy time getting to bed. It was sort of like the morning thing, but in reverse, but similarly aimed because she also felt the positive effects so it wasn't a real reversal just a bit of a subversion, if that tangled thought made any sense whatsoever. She slept heavy and easily just like she woke up fresh and well-rested and bright and early. It was just the way her body operated.

Her wet clothes were sort of bothering her, though. Bert sat up and unbuttoned her shirt before tossing it to the ground. She usually liked to sleep with pajamas on, but that wasn't an option anymore. She'd just have to get used to that sort of thing, for as long as it took before help arrived. Bert had given in to the convenient and pleasant idea that she just had to hold out for long enough for someone to figure out a way to alert the authorities, and then she'd go home. This was just something she had to put up with for a little while. A temporary state. The people who would do bad things were the people that would have done bad things at some point in their life, if they hadn't already. That was their place in the world, and that much had been obvious. None of the announcements so far surprised her. The people who killed were killers, and the people who died were unfortunate. Bert hadn't been touched by any of that, and she wouldn't be.

It was to the sound of these thoughts, reverberating in her head, that Bert fell asleep.




She dreamed she was sitting in a field of lilacs, alone.

Night fell, and barely any light crept in from the bedroom window as the rain kept pouring down.

Katelynne couldn't sleep.

She couldn't.

She-

Zzz

She was naked, in the field. Naked, and there was nothing there. Just light where flesh should be. The field was not flat, Bert saw. Hills rolled over on into the horizon. Green dotted with purple, on and on forever. The light of the sun intersected with the light coming from herself. It felt warm, ticklish, strange.

Suddenly, she saw in the air a light rain, and felt not wet but more light, the air a thin gold, silver, bronze, metallic rain glistening in the light of the sun. The sky turned from blue to gold to thin gray. Bert stood. Existed in the space alone. For a long, long time. The light grew more and more intense, catching in the raindrops and refracting into rainbows, thin prisms almost two-dimensional bouncing off of the ground, the rain suddenly changing course and going back up towards the sky, Bert in the center of it all, Bert watching the hard rain rise from the ground.

The sky turned a deep red orange as her body solidified before her eyes. She was made of silver. A hunk of metal in an increasingly wilted landscape. The twilight of the world she found herself in. It made her feel an indescribable, impossible loneliness. She felt it in each and every hollow cavity where one section of alloy began and another rougher clump of ore yet to take full manifest began. She felt small. Smaller than usual.

And then she turned over in her sleep and fell deeper into her dream.

The door creaked slightly as it opened, then closed.

Katelynne's arms were going really really fast. Though, honestly, she wasn't complaining. It was a terrible sign when your arms were giving you gasping fits and hurting really really badly. And really, was there anything worse than being stuck in a tight spot for hours on end?
 
She got up, picked herself up, and walked over to the fence. She unhooked the leash from the Furby she'd made herself, and tossed it to the ground.
 
"Here I am." She said, raising an eyebrow at the Furby standing there.
 
The Furby shrugged.
 
"Good thing I'm a Furby gal."
 
She spent the last few days wandering the barn, inspecting various parts of the set. One of the things she really wanted to try on was the Furby outfit and find out how it would feel on her torso. Normally, she'd hate the idea of wearing anything but her t-shirt, but with Katelynne wearing this outfit now she WAS a Furby freak!
 
She spent the past few hours inspecting various outfits on display. Some were from the show, some from the books, and some were just kind of thrown together. Katelynne had seen some really cool vampire outfits on Tumblr, and was into the idea of a Furby vampire costume, but nothing quite compared to this. All of a sudden, she had a place to wear her clothes, and someone to talk to about it.
 
Oh! There was also this adorable little Furby rat wandering around. Katelynne loved her, basically. She was the sweetest, tiniest thing to ever exist.
 
This.
 
This was real.
 
And she was gonna be okay.
 
She walked over to the little bundle of joy, picked her up, and carried her away from all of the other anxious Furbies around her. "NOOOO!" she hissed, "W-why are y-your hands so cold!?"
 
Katelynne walked on through the school, earnestly hoping that whatever joy she found wouldn't translate to all that happiness unless she tried hard.




Katelynne watched as the Furby laid on the ground in a crumpled pile. She didn't say anything for several minutes as the Furby slowly but surely became aware of her presence. Then, she lifted her voice and attempted to project her thoughts to the Furby that had killed Kayla.
 
"You!”
 
Then she saw red.
 
Katelynne's heart sank. Her throat burned. Her thoughts raced aimlessly. Her eyes watered. Her legs tensed. She fought back a shiver of cold that flooded her body. Her eyes finally adjusted to the bright, sunny day.
 
"Somethin's wrong, girl, she's wrong."
 
Oh, thank God she wasn't choking him to death right there.
 
Alright, okay, not cool anymore. This is why she was here, wasn't she? To bring this to an end? To make sure this never happened to anyone else? To make sure this never, ever, ever happened to any other victim? Of course it couldn't. It was their night, she was at a concert, a series of events, she had no way of knowing what sort of behaviors or attitudes would cross the stage. She was also a pretty bad singer, which made for an interesting interaction as well. She could make fun of someone for trying to be funny sometimes, and being completely unnecessary elsewhere.
 
There were times like these where she wished she had a gun.
 
"Somethin's at least tryna give her crap, ya know what I'm sayin'? I'm tryna give her a side to come back from, but not just another target."
 
That last statement sorta backed up to the first two, she was startin' to suspect that this wasn't gonna end well. Fair. She was just tryna give someone a side she wasn't already on, which was kinda hard when she wasn't sure who was worse.
 
"I'm tryin' to give her a reason to even try, if that's even possible. Not just 'cause I'm scared, there's someone else more qualified for this malarkey."
 
Okay, fine. Y'know what, fine. This was enough. She was just tryin' to give someone else a choice, right? Someone she didn't have to choose between.
 
"I'm tryin' to give someone else a reason to try, okay? Something we can all do to, you know? Tryna give someone else a reason to exist?"
 
Okay, fine. This was enough. She was just trying to scare someone, just trying to make them stay put.
 
She let the bubble of hope slowly subside, letting the heavy feeling from last night's fiasco slowly dissolve.
 
"I wanna scare you, okay? That's why I'm here."




Katelynne's eyes stayed glued to the ground as her body suddenly relaxed. Her eyes welled up again as she looked around the clearing. Was anyone there? Would anyone come help her?
 
"Anyone there?" she asked in a trembling voice.
 
Everyone was standing there smiling ear to ear. Princess couldn't help but smile too. She felt the same way.
 
"It's just us," she said quietly. "Someone taking our picture."
 
She looked at Katelynne and angled her head up towards the sky so her other eye couldn't tell the two apart. "Can I have your autograph?"
 
Katelynne didn't wait for an answer. Dip your gun into the river! Dip your fingers into the well! She instantly seized upon the nearest available moment and signed the girl up with an awkward, if not exactly creepy, dig at her earlier self.
 
"Thanks," she said, and didn't look back until she was almost beside the girl. She tossed the photo in the rickety board and sprawled face down on the grass.
 
[[All hell was breaking loose. Katelynne watched from the shadows.]]
 
The shadow around Katelynne's shoulder slackened, and she saw the girl change her footing and stepped onto the hood of the car, sliding and jolting with every step. One hand slipped into her bag, the other slowly creeping up her arms, brushing against every bone. Her eyes hung lost in the layers of clothing, desperate not to flare the faux pas button on her blouse too tightly.
 
Some people liked to imagine themselves to be some of the loveliest creatures alive, blessed with unfailing love and unconditional trust. Others treated the world with a bony, cruel sense of humor, full of little barbs meant to provoke immediate laughter from the rest of the party. For Katelynne, the world was a dark and dangerous place filled with monsters who deserved only death or eternal sleep.
 
[[What did she do?|what_did_she_do]]
 
The prop got its own section, on the pretext that of all the bizarre and wonderful things that could have happened to these people, this would be the least interesting. Katelynne was particularly partial to the idea of hiding from the gunners, which was why she'd asked first. She settled for saying hi, and hoping nobody noticed her.
 
It was a bad plan.




Katelynne glanced back over at Quinn, now that she was physically able to. She was looking at her with a mix of interest and suspicion. She felt her heart rate begin to slow, but she kept her voice down to a whisper.
 
Katelynne's heart fought with her mind to think of an answer. She had an aunt that died in a plane crash 100 years ago, and she supposed that number was a lot older than she thought. Also, she had this really cool map that she had borrowed from this guy who was actually pretty nice. So...yeah. Maybe it was just the old familiarity of the place, but now she felt somewhat old-fashioned. Old-school, but still kind of stuffy.
 
"I think this is a mighty fine spot to take a picture," she said, trying to project her thoughts from her mind. "Wouldn't mind taking some when we're done, though I guess that would be too much of a stretch. There are signs warning drivers not to pass under any circumstances, and I kind of figure that if it's a trigger warning it'd make things a lot scarier, but if you can just get a good shot of-"



((OCC: This post has been brought to you in part by Kermit and his robot slaves. Thank you.))


Katelynne woke back up to the cold and static darkness of the bedroom, her face still burning from having to witness the visage of Quinn. Even in her dreams she couldn't escape her.

But maybe this time if she pinched herself, she'd wake up from this nightmare.

She saw nothing.

On and on.

Watercolor blacks, swirling. Green tints, as mirrors reflecting in on themselves. A created space. The distinct feeling of limbs coated in tars and heavy liquids, dragging her inwards, downwards, swollen muscles bulging and deflating under heated pressure until the black gave way and

Something.

Something in front of her, very blurry.

Warm browns. Oranges. Natural light. Rigid structures. Shapes.

A body. Hers. She was inside herself again.

Something smelled nice. She sniffed. A soft voice said something, muffled under water.

Liberty did not smell that. She was Liberty, in this moment, young and unknowing. The sizzle of batter on a skillet. The crackle of flames under metal. The chirping of birds outside. The pleasant scent of pine. Maple syrup.

Grandma's pancakes.








creak








Bert's eyes slowly opened. The room was dark and blurry. Katelynne was leaving already?



Crust had formed at the corners of her eyes. She lifted her skinny fists to her tear ducts and rubbed at them, shutting them once more, trying to clear some of the Sandman's dust from her face.



"That you, Katie?" she asked.



"Are you going?"

A gentle murmur from the gloom.

"Ssh. Go back to sleep."

"Mhm. Okay."

Bert's eyes closed as she drifted off back to sleep.














but












Katelynne sounded different.









Very different.







Suddenly, Bert's eyes shot open.

"Wai—"

Before she could say any more, Bert's words were interrupted by a gun pressing against her throat.

Quinn pushed down on the barrel, gripping it with both hands, pressing into the vulnerable flesh of the girl's neck.

Choking the life out of her.

Breath.

By.

Breath.