Survival Of The Fittest

Megan looked at Kayla's body. The wound, the open eyes. Even the parts of her body which hadn't been spattered in blood looked different, somehow. Pitiful thing. Megan was jealous. But, well.

It was Blaise, and now it was Nona. Megan took a deep, shuddering breath.

"Would it be okay to ask if anyone knows which way she went?"

Maybe Garnet--no, Garnet couldn't have known. Besides, Garnet was already heading on her way. That was good. Good for her. Megan should be happy.

Silly Megan. She'd gotten herself stuck again. Here she was, thinking she was free, everything pointing so neatly in the direction of the answer she'd given, even as she hoped that somehow she would be proven wrong, and now she had been. Foolish, foolish girl. She'd asked for another answer, again, and she'd been given it, again.

Richard's question still hadn't been answered, Megan realized. "Uh, Nona. Short? Braids? Hoodie? You...you caught a glimpse of her?" All business. Sure.

Megan thought about the cliff. Let out, and then stifled, a sob.

God help her. She wasn't allowed to die just yet.

((Skipping ahead because it's been over a week since my last post, I have no idea how active I'll be next week, and we need to get closer to ending the thread so we can timeskip to present))

Roxie huffed out a breath of air.

She stepped closer to Kayla.

“Hey... could one of you, like... go with Garnet?” she asked, rubbing her jacket sleeve.

Flies were already buzzing around Kayla's open wounds. Her damaged eye, her exposed innards, her destroyed throat. Roxie felt the back of her mouth go sour and bitter. It was like something out of a movie. A corpse, damaged and eviscerated to the point it was barely recognizable as a body, lying in the grass, rotting and being feasted on by insects. Maybe as an opening scene kill, or another, different slasher kill that comes later. Not this. Then again, Nona had the Freddy Krueger claw, so--

“Sorry, it's just... I think Kayla deserves to be laid to rest. But Garnet can't go alone.”

That's what Kayla did. That's what killed her. That's what prevented her from getting help. That's what made her into... this.

“I'll be here. One of you should stay and help Kayla out, and another should... uh... make sure Garnet isn't in any trouble.”

You're still splitting up.

You're still making that mistake.

You're still doing that cliché.

Yes, she knew. But buddy system was at least a little safer for now.

"Hm... yep, thought so."

Richard stood up from Kayla's corpse, staring at Garnet as she sprinted away from the scene. He hadn't actually pretended to act shocked like he had originally planned to, since he couldn't say he was all that happy about being right, for once. Garnet certainly seemed pretty upset about it, and he assumed that was for a good reason. She probably couldn't handle the fact that her friend turned into a killer in the blink of an eye, but what could you do?

Well, he could probably follow her to make sure she didn't get herself killed, that's something he could definitely do. The only problem was, trying to protect someone else wasn't gonna boost his own chances of survival. He was trying to get home, after all, and sticking his neck out for other people was an unnecessary risk.

With all that being said, though...

"Yeah, sure," he replied nonchalantly, while beginning to walk slowly in Garnet's direction. "I'll follow her."

He couldn't just ignore someone who clearly needed help. Or, rather, he couldn't ignore a lady who clearly needed help. At least not completely, anyway. Maybe he could just catch up to her and make sure she wasn't about to get herself killed and then go off back on his own. Shouldn't be too hard a task.

"Oh and, before I go, Megan," he shouted back to the girls, not actually looking behind him. "Stay safe."

And then, with much more gusto, he started running.

That was it, then.

Though Richard had given her an out by volunteering. Now she no longer had to. Now all Megan had to do was do something for the dead girl and she'd be free to do as she wanted. Why, Richard?

Why would you say that when all Megan wanted was to die?

Not that Megan really had a choice. Megan never really had a choice. There were so many ways to hurt people. Even if she'd gotten to the cliff, she'd probably run into something else. If it wasn't Nona, it'd be Blaise, pointing their new toy at someone. Princess, broken. Or maybe just someone sitting around near the edge, someone Megan hardly knew but who she wouldn't be able to hide from as she stood on the edge, pleading with her before she was close enough to accidentally misstep, pleading with her not to take another step, pleading that her life was worth living.

Which, again, it wasn't. The thought nestled easily in her brain. It was almost familiar, now.

She blinked quickly a couple times. "I'll...okay. How do you think she would have wanted it?"

No crying now. She wasn't going to let herself do that. She did dig her nails into her arm; she was allowed that much, as long as Roxie didn't notice, and this wasn't the sort of thing that people usually noticed.

She held herself.

“I... honestly don't know.”

Roxie rubbed her jacket sleeve a bit more. But she realized that now. At some point, she'd been meaning to ask, get everything clear. There was a lot to talk about with Kayla that she never did, nor ever will. There were a lot of questions, a lot of things to say, and all chances of doing so were gone. They could have talked more at the shoe tree. They could have talked more before Richard came in. She tried to remember what Kayla said during their convo, and--

Nona had been there.

Roxie tightly closed her eyes for a moment.

“Right, um...”

She had to think.

“I think that, at the very least, she'd appreciate being moved elsewhere. A little bit of, uh, dignity, right? Maybe covered, maybe placed out of sight.”

Her voice got a little faster, but she had to take another breath.

"Okay."

Roxie hadn't noticed anything yet. Megan had to remind herself, again, that this was a good thing. Megan let her hands drop to her sides. She couldn't very well hold herself while holding Kayla.

"By covered, do you mean buried, or just in some brush, or...?" Megan paused, sent a silent prayer: if you're out there, Kayla, know that Megan is sorry. Know that she wishes you at least got to be buried by people who knew you. Know that she hopes this brings you at least a little peace. God, she hoped it didn't come across as selfish.

Megan kicked at the dirt with her feet. It was too hard. She took a deep breath.

Roxie bit her lip. Thought.

Then, it hit her:

“There's a boat. Inside, I mean.”

It was molding, and gross, and probably not the best. It was the sort of thing that, like, a drowned child would pull someone out into the depths if they stayed out too long. But, it was worth a shot. Worth pushing Kayla out of sight, kind of like...

“Um, you know, like, Viking funerals, right? They would pack up the dudes, and place them in a boat with all their belongings, and they set the boat on fire as they set it afloat. But like, we can't set her on fire, of course, but it's the thought, right? They didn't actually do that anyways, sooo...”

Her voice was fast and rambling and high-pitched. And she probably wasn't making any sense. But it was an idea. She just kept picturing a boat floating onto the lake, waiting to be pulled under.

Megan thought about how much easier it would be to put Roxie in a boat rather than bury her. Felt guilty about it. Sighed inaudibly.

It was what Roxie wanted, and Megan never really could have known what Kayla would have wanted. Still wanted, maybe.

There was nothing else to do.

Megan stepped carefully, making sure not to put her shoes on Kayla's hair.

"Okay. I'm ready," she said, trying to keep her voice steady.

“Right,” Roxie said, adjusting her shoulder. “Let's get her settled, then.”

It was going to be a lot of work, and she wasn't sure if it'd work at all, but it'd be worth it just to see Kayla put to rest.


As she expected, pulling the boat out from the house had been a hassle. It was heavy, sure, but it was also smelly and dirty. Once they got it in the water she took a moment to clean it. Nothing much, just shake it out, rinse it with the lake water, give it a moment to dry a bit. It seemed flimsy, and she still had doubts about whether it'd stay adrift.

Eventually, however, Kayla found her way inside. Roxie had made sure to put gloves on, but her skin still recoiled when her hand brushed against a bit of guts. Her stomach retched at the memory.

Roxie slid the gloves off afterwards.

“Right, um...”

She thought of everyone else.

Violet-- not Schmidt, Quinn-- had been killed by a girl on the basketball team. Normally Roxie would appreciate the similar names, but not in this situation. Yuka's sister, she was gone too. All the people who had passed already, would they be able to do the same? Feed a boat into a lake, like... dunno, offering up some sacrifice? Closure? Either way.

The sun had moved to midday. Flies hummed even more around Kayla, only seeing raw meat ripe for the taking. She knew how long they feasted, and laid eggs, and raised their larvae inside human corpses. Dark clouds were forming, it still felt sticky. Roxie tried to remember how that'd effect decomposition and scavengers. It being wetter probably sped things up a bit. Kayla would probably mold and decay like an old sandwich left in a broken fridge. A shudder ran up her spine.

“Megan? Anything you'd like to say before we send her off?”

Kayla had been heavy. Light enough that Megan and Roxie hadn't needed to drag her body to the boat, thank goodness, but still heavy enough that they needed to set her down often. Or maybe that was just Megan. Roxie was definitely the fitter of the two.

Megan had been looking around for flowers when Roxie had called for her. They were probably actually weeds--Megan recognized the dandelions, though not any of the other ones--but they were still flowers. Kayla might've liked that, if she'd been like Megan's mom, who had often repeated to Megan the quote that she'd found online when Megan was being a drag: of course you're a weed, dear, you're growing in the cracks no matter how hard it is to grow, no matter how hard it is to realize that you're a flower.

Words that had meant something to Megan in a different life. To invoke them now would be cruel. Of course Kayla wasn't going to keep growing. Megan didn't know what she was doing, but she kept on looking for flowers--pulling them up, trying to pinch the stems so that she can take the ugly roots off, and it made her hands raw, they burned.

It took a second for Roxie's words to register in Megan's brain.

"Oh! Um, yeah. Give me a second," Megan said, looking up. She looked at the bouquet she'd assembled, lying a few feet away from her. It looked...well. Megan sighed. She wasn't sure why she'd kept bothering with it, other than a blind belief that maybe with enough work she'd be able to make it adequate. And now she took it to the boat, for no other reason, she guessed, than that she hated to return empty-handed.

The flowers went into Kayla's hands--fingers pulled open and clasped over the stems, and Megan wasn't sure it looked quite right, but she had to give up after awhile. Those had been the first hands that Megan had held in...months, Megan realized, and the thought pressed a little into the weak part of Megan's brain, the part that wanted Megan to stop clamping her throat up and let out a little sob.

It's okay. Megan pushed herself back into a standing position. Took a deep breath. She just needed to say something, now.

"Goodbye Kayla. I hope you’re in a better place now. I hope-"

The words caught in her throat, because...yeah. Fuck. This was just awful. This was horrible. And now Megan felt horribly selfish for crying, because she was crying for some reason. God, she’d known this was coming and she’d gone and done it anyways.

Megan wiped her tears, sniffled, took a deep breath. “I’m sorry you’re not getting a better send-off. And I’m sorry that. Your send off is me apologizing for not sending you off better, instead of, um. An actually better send-off. I’m, um. This still doesn’t sound any good. It’s okay if you’re mad.”

She'd tried, she really had, but here she was, tears rolling down her cheeks, and she was still crying for herself. She was still thinking about her own forgiveness.

Megan turned to Roxie. "Uh. Sorry. Your turn, I guess?"

God.

“Hey…”

Roxie reached out to touch Megan, only to falter. She might not have wanted that. But, like, she had a point. Roxie had been thinking about this for a while now.

They had no idea what Kayla would have wanted, but this was really the best they could have done.

“Um, right…”

Roxie clenched a fist, breathed. For a moment, she wondered if send-offs weren’t just about respect, but to help the living get closure. She focused on Kayla’s face. She’d made sure to close her eyes.

“Hey Kayla? I’m… sorry I just, like, let you wander off like that. Like, you know like in movies, you’re not supposed to split up right?”

She giggled. It wasn’t funny.

You still did that cliche again. Idiot.

“Right, um… we weren’t super close at home, but you know what? I cared about you, and it’s… sad to see you go, especially like this. It’s like… you deserved better. You deserved a better ending than what happened.”

Her hand rubbed her sleeve again.

“I never had Pocky before all this. I don’t think I ever talked about like, what you would have wanted, or how you’d like to be remembered, but like, your cosplays were cool, and maybe we could have talked about our work together as well? And I just…”

Exhale.

“I’m sorry. And thank you. I’m glad I knew you.”

Roxie, for a moment, wondered if she could do better. It was funny, speaking came more easily before all this.

Megan blinked away the tears. So Kayla had at least one person here who was a genuine mourner. That was a relief. It was okay if Megan's best wasn't enough. Or, if not okay, at least less shitty.

Suddenly it felt very rude for Megan to be here, intruding like this. What right did she have to be here? How dare she?

What was Kayla to her? Where had Megan been all these years? When had she so much as spoken Kayla's name before this morning?

All things that had already occurred to her before, but until now she hadn't realized that it made her not inadequate but worse than useless here. It seemed so obvious now in the face of genuine grief. Of course. Of course Megan had no business being here. Of course she had nothing to say of value. No, Megan had no excuse being here. Unless there was some way for her to help, unless her presence here was somehow making things better for someone, somewhere, but, well...

But what could Megan do here, really?

She tried to think of something to say, but all that really crossed her mind was that she wanted to be mourned in some way if she died before Roxie. Which she can dress up by promising to do the same for Roxie if the other girl died first, but the thing was...if the impulse had come from the goodness in the heart, she could mourn Roxie without forcing the other girl to promise to do the same.

No. She can dither, but it was time to go.

((Continued elsewhere))

Megan said nothing. Roxie said nothing.

For a moment, it was quiet. Roxie tried to think of anything else. But she couldn't. She couldn't. She just rubbed her jacket sleeve a bit more.

With a gentle push, she set Kayla sailing.

And that was the last either of them would see of her, maybe.

She made sure to keep her eye on Kayla as she set out on her voyage, just to watch her go. It was quite a scene in a movie, with all the clouds above quietly reflecting on the green-gray lake, the boat slowly pushing aside algae as it floated across the water. The quietness, the stillness. Maybe like, a final scene right before the end credits. Maybe as an opening scene.

Kayla had deserved better.

((Roxanne Borowski continued in Thriller))