Survival Of The Fittest

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By the time they reached what appeared to be a decent shelter, if only in a rather loose sense of the word, Chase was drained, physically and emotionally. For all his worries, the trip had been incredibly uneventful. It was kind of funny in a way. When one thought of SotF, one was likely to think of murder and the horrors they likely to face. Instead, they'd had no more encounters with their fellow students since leaving the store, and most of their time had been spent wandering through rather pleasant scenery. Normally, he'd have appreciated the neat landscapes around him, but he was feeling a little numb to it now, after the adrenaline crash he'd experienced when they left the mall. A small corner of his mind regretted it; in any other circumstances, he would have loved to sketch some of the neater views.

They'd wandered around this way without any clear direction after leaving the mall, and it wasn't until it had started getting late that they started looking into finding a place to rest. The docks had been the closest place that seemed likely to offer refuge for the night, so off they'd gone. Unfortunately, as it turned out, the buildings were almost all in various states of decay, and the docks themselves had faired no better.
Of course, beggars could hardly be choosers. It was far too late to turn back towards the town, so they had to settle for carefully making their way across the boardwalk, even as the fading light served to make things quite hazardous. Even now, Chase was a little surprised he hadn't managed to trip off into the water, what with all the opportunities offered by the ever present debris, not to mention the occasional handy pitfall. Thankfully, they'd managed to find a store that was at least mostly intact, without any serious mishaps along the way. It was a small and dark little place, but by then, it was practically a palace as far as he was concerned. Just the luxury of letting his bag slide off against the wall and stretching was nice.

Occasionally, one or the other would make an attempt at chatting, but for the most part, Chase was content to stay quiet. He didn't want to be rude, but there was too much on his mind to make good conversation anyway. So, instead, he'd eventually started clearing out a little space for himself in a corner, and used the duffel bag to make a rather poor substitute for a pillow. Surprisingly, sleep came almost immediately, exhaustion triumphing over discomfort and worries, and for the next few hours, he was given a reprieve from it all.

That is, until a loud voice burst throughout the entire nearby area, gleefully announcing eight deaths that had taken place over the last day.

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By the time it was over, he was sitting up stiffly, at a loss for words. What could he say? That he was sorry for the people who died? That didn't begin to cover what he felt, after listening to Danya's mocking voice list off the names. That he was glad Yukiko wasn't on that list? Of course, but that didn't make the rest okay.

He tried taking a slow, deep breath, and that helped a little, but he still wasn't ready to speak.

Instead, he turned to look at Lydia, to see how she was coping, or if she'd somehow been lucky enough to sleep through it all. Despite his best efforts to stay calm, to tell himself everything was alright when it so clearly wasn't, the faint tear from the corner of his eye spoke volumes for him, even as he hastily rubbed it away.  

Lydia heard, but she did not want to believe. It was too much, too crazy, too painful. It raised too many questions.

So she had a purpose, and it wasn't just to be gunned down, but what made her so special? How was she different from any of those eight? How was she different from the five who had killed? She could tell herself, again and again, that it was wrong to kill, and it was, but what had driven them to such an action? What temptation could have led them to such a path?

How long until she, too, felt it?

Her eyes were closed, but her breathing picked up, air coming through a series of small, choked out sobs. It wasn't right, but it wouldn't change, and that was strange because there was someone out there who could put an end to all this.

It was not Lydia's place to question, this she told herself again and again, but there were questions out there, questions that almost felt like they were being asked of her, and Lydia had no answers within her.

She rocked, twice, back and forth on the cool floor, and tried to keep from crying.

When Chase looked up, it had seemed like Lydia had somehow managed to sleep through it all in her corner of the room.  Her snoring seemed to stop briefly, and then picked up again, but nothing really seemed amiss at first glance.  In a way, he envied her that extra time of peace. He stayed down for another couple of seconds more, before, brushing furiously at his eye one last time, he pulled himself off the stiff, uncomfortable duffel bag and stood up, all the while suppressing a groan as his muscles protested.  

He took a couple more deep breaths as he let the stiffness work it's course.  He had to stay calm, even now, when it was just himself he had to worry about for the moment, but there wasn't really anything he could distract himself with, except more morbid thoughts that couldn't do anything about.   He briefly considered the possibility of scouting the docks, but decided against it.  With his luck, that would just be asking for some horrible accident to happen.

As he stretched his arms out, his eyes fell on what was arguably the only real feature of the place besides the debris; specifically, the small counter near the entrance.  Acting on an impulse, he walked as softly as his clumsy, tired feet would allow, and sure enough, on the top shelf there was some old, yellowed paper, and that was good.  He searched a little longer, and found a pen as well, and that was good too.  Then he tried to scribble with it, and it turned out to be empty.

Small a thing as it was, he was crushed.  Okay, so maybe he wasn't really up to drawing, not with who knows what happening out there to his friends and classmates, but still, it was like losing an old friend he'd been counting on for help.  It hurt a whole lot more than it should have.  Still, there was nothing to be done about that, and there wasn't really any other outlet handy, so instead, he gave a small sigh and leaned back on the counter, until a quiet sound finally caught his attention.

"Lydia?"

A small note of concern had crept into his voice, but he whispered, because he wasn't entirely sure he wasn't just imagining it.  She'd been asleep, hadn't she?  Right?

"Yeah?" she said. It was a choked, raspy word, one she hadn't even really meant to let slip past her lips, but she'd said it and now it was out in the open, so now they would have to talk and she would have to face what her classmates had done and what they had been allowed to do. From there it was straight back to her questions, to everything she was trying to escape, because, well, if she doubted one part of the story then she would surely doubt the others too, and then, oh, then death would become so much scarier, so much more sinister. It was easy to be brave when what came next was crystal clear, and of course there were answers, those things she'd always been told, how faith meant believing even in the face of contrary evidence, how that was, after all, the point of it.

If something could be proven beyond any possible doubt, then believing it wasn't faith. Then there was no challenge, and with no challenge there was no real reason to any of it, no opportunity to grow or better oneself.

So Lydia kept her faith in everything and took deep breaths and opened her eyes. They itched around the edges, felt watery. She had a few tears on her face, despite her best efforts, and sheepishly wiped them away.

It would be okay, though. She and Chase could wait things out, maybe find somewhere better later on, and sooner or later everything would come clear for her. She would find her answers and her purpose.

"I'm okay," she said, to convince him as much as herself. "I'll be okay. We'll be okay."

"I was just wondering if you were awake, was all", Chase answered in a mild voice.  

He suppressed the little flash of irritation that came with being snapped at.  It wasn't like he couldn't understand, because if she was awake that meant she'd heard, and that meant she was going through everything he'd had to deal with too, and she'd already been crumpling under the pressure.   She said she was okay, but they both knew it wasn't true; nobody on this entire island could possibly be okay, and her least of all.  

That was supposed to be the reason he was here with her now.  It was because he'd thought that maybe he could help, could be there for her as a friend, but she was clearly shutting him out, and he didn't know what to do about that.  With somebody like Yukiko or Miriam, it was easy, because they were all close friends and because they knew and trusted each other.  Lydia clearly didn't trust him enough, and he didn't know what to do.

However, he only nodded in agreement, because maybe if they said it was okay often enough, and loud enough, they could believe it, right?  

Yeah, sure.

After a moment of thorough disgust with himself, and when Lydia showed no signs of wanting to say anything more, he finally suggested they move on.  Perhaps moving would help him take his mind off of it all, and allow him to ignore everything until it disappeared.

Yeah, sure.

Whatever Lydia's thoughts were, she nodded her agreement, and so off they went.

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