Axes Aren't Efficient For Grinding
Posted: Mon Sep 03, 2018 6:26 pm
((Marybeth Witherspoon continued from Woods of Paranoia))
When it's nighttime, being in the dark is a given. It made little difference whether the darkness was outside or under tons of rock, it still was darkness. This was about a good reason as any for Marybeth to have decided to take shelter in the tunnels.
After running from that blaze that had incinerated Francine, Marybeth hadn't found much else interesting. Partially because she had no idea how to actually navigate with a compass and map, but also because she hadn't seen anybody from her time walking around the island. She would have thought that with over two hundred kids, it wouldn't be too hard to find somebody if she walked around long enough. Then again, the island seemed a lot bigger than it looked on the map.
The only proof that there were people on the island was that she'd seen a few of them, and then Danya had gone on and blabbed about all the people that had already been killed. What a killjoy. Marybeth would have rather preferred to have discovered all the killings herself, and then made up wacky inane theories on who did the killing for what reason. But instead, Danya went and just straight up told everybody who had killed whom. How would she start rumors when everyone was as informed as she was? Or more informed since she hadn't seen anybody for most of the day.
Marybeth would have thought that the narrow tunnels would make it easier to find people, as long as people were in there. Not so much the case though, as the tunnels kept winding and branching and then reconverging and then branching again. She'd lost track of the time, and of course, Danya's crew had been nice enough to take away her only timekeeping device: her cell phone.
All the walking had made her tired, so Marybeth decided to stop for a break to eat and drink. She tried to cradle the tiny flashlight between her shoulder and neck as she dug through her daypack, but it easily slipped out and clattered across the rough stone floor. Marybeth let out a small curse and chased after it. The flashlight skittered a few feet and stopped, its beam illuminating a few meters farther down the tunnel. In the beam, Marybeth could make out a person lying on the ground.
She froze. If somebody was there, it wouldn't be wise to just run up and chat them up. Not until she could recognize them as not being one of the named killers on the island. She held her breath, slowly shuffling back, and watched the dim form in the tunnel.
There was no motion from the other side. Whoever was there, they hadn't acknowledged Marybeth's presence at all. Perhaps it would be safe enough to venture closer. Reversing her steps, she walked up to her flashlight and picked it up, then trained the beam on the figure up ahead and walked cautiously up toward it.
She soon discovered why the body wasn't moving. When you had something like an axe stuck in your head, it made it hard to do anything that had "being alive" as a requirement. With the damage the small axe had done, it wasn't easy to make out who had been the unfortunate victim. She swept the light over the corpse. He was stocky, built, and probably on the football team. That was as far as she could guess from there. She could cross-reference these facts with the names she had written down as Danya announced them. Having found the body filled in a lot of the details of the story that may have surrounded his death.
Marybeth eyed the axe. It had sunk quite deep in, and retrieving it wouldn't be easy. On the other hand, an axe was a much better means of self-defence than that joke of a weapon that had been assigned to her. How was she supposed to do anything with a hand-cranked egg beater? Besides beating eggs, but that was hardly useful when there were no eggs around either. She put the flashlight back down on the ground, and then tightly grasped the handle of the small axe with both her hands. She pulled with all her might, but the axe didn't really seem to want to move. Oh, it shifted slightly, but freeing it from the other's skull was another story.
She planted a foot on the corpse's shoulder, and then gave another hard yank on the handle. Evidently, adding leverage to the body made it far easier to move the axe. Easy enough that the force she had used to pull the axe was enough to bring her, axe in hand, stumbling back several steps right into a wall. Head met rock and stars flashed for a moment from the impact.
The hit knocked her bearings out for a moment, and she slid down the wall to the floor. If she was going to take a rest, now was as good a time as any. At least she now had an axe.
When it's nighttime, being in the dark is a given. It made little difference whether the darkness was outside or under tons of rock, it still was darkness. This was about a good reason as any for Marybeth to have decided to take shelter in the tunnels.
After running from that blaze that had incinerated Francine, Marybeth hadn't found much else interesting. Partially because she had no idea how to actually navigate with a compass and map, but also because she hadn't seen anybody from her time walking around the island. She would have thought that with over two hundred kids, it wouldn't be too hard to find somebody if she walked around long enough. Then again, the island seemed a lot bigger than it looked on the map.
The only proof that there were people on the island was that she'd seen a few of them, and then Danya had gone on and blabbed about all the people that had already been killed. What a killjoy. Marybeth would have rather preferred to have discovered all the killings herself, and then made up wacky inane theories on who did the killing for what reason. But instead, Danya went and just straight up told everybody who had killed whom. How would she start rumors when everyone was as informed as she was? Or more informed since she hadn't seen anybody for most of the day.
Marybeth would have thought that the narrow tunnels would make it easier to find people, as long as people were in there. Not so much the case though, as the tunnels kept winding and branching and then reconverging and then branching again. She'd lost track of the time, and of course, Danya's crew had been nice enough to take away her only timekeeping device: her cell phone.
All the walking had made her tired, so Marybeth decided to stop for a break to eat and drink. She tried to cradle the tiny flashlight between her shoulder and neck as she dug through her daypack, but it easily slipped out and clattered across the rough stone floor. Marybeth let out a small curse and chased after it. The flashlight skittered a few feet and stopped, its beam illuminating a few meters farther down the tunnel. In the beam, Marybeth could make out a person lying on the ground.
She froze. If somebody was there, it wouldn't be wise to just run up and chat them up. Not until she could recognize them as not being one of the named killers on the island. She held her breath, slowly shuffling back, and watched the dim form in the tunnel.
There was no motion from the other side. Whoever was there, they hadn't acknowledged Marybeth's presence at all. Perhaps it would be safe enough to venture closer. Reversing her steps, she walked up to her flashlight and picked it up, then trained the beam on the figure up ahead and walked cautiously up toward it.
She soon discovered why the body wasn't moving. When you had something like an axe stuck in your head, it made it hard to do anything that had "being alive" as a requirement. With the damage the small axe had done, it wasn't easy to make out who had been the unfortunate victim. She swept the light over the corpse. He was stocky, built, and probably on the football team. That was as far as she could guess from there. She could cross-reference these facts with the names she had written down as Danya announced them. Having found the body filled in a lot of the details of the story that may have surrounded his death.
Marybeth eyed the axe. It had sunk quite deep in, and retrieving it wouldn't be easy. On the other hand, an axe was a much better means of self-defence than that joke of a weapon that had been assigned to her. How was she supposed to do anything with a hand-cranked egg beater? Besides beating eggs, but that was hardly useful when there were no eggs around either. She put the flashlight back down on the ground, and then tightly grasped the handle of the small axe with both her hands. She pulled with all her might, but the axe didn't really seem to want to move. Oh, it shifted slightly, but freeing it from the other's skull was another story.
She planted a foot on the corpse's shoulder, and then gave another hard yank on the handle. Evidently, adding leverage to the body made it far easier to move the axe. Easy enough that the force she had used to pull the axe was enough to bring her, axe in hand, stumbling back several steps right into a wall. Head met rock and stars flashed for a moment from the impact.
The hit knocked her bearings out for a moment, and she slid down the wall to the floor. If she was going to take a rest, now was as good a time as any. At least she now had an axe.