No Exit
Posted: Thu Apr 09, 2020 9:10 am
((Erika Stieglitz continued from King's Crossing))
It took all the light left in the previous day to even get here, crossing through the middle of the island. Even checking the radar almost religiously, Erika saw almost no one on her way here. Occasionally she’d spot a body lying some distance away, most of them unrecognizable for one reason or another.
Seeing them that way, where it was hard to see their mortal wounds, gave off the eerie impression that some single calamity had descended on the island. Like everyone had just dropped dead on the spot. She tried to stop herself from pondering the likelihood of someone here catching some tropical disease and whether or not they’d tally deaths by transmission or not. Ultimately abstractions like that took up relatively little space in her mind; all she needed to think about was the living, who thankfully had left her well enough alone the rest of the day.
A few times on the way she’d worried she might faint from the heat, from exhaustion, or however much blood she had lost. The hard-fought journey to shelter eventually ended at a house at the edge of the eastern half of the village. It was in marginally better shape than the rest, insofar as it had an intact roof and walls.
There were no bodies inside either, living or dead, though the presence of death was impossible to shake off in this place. With the heat bearing down all day, the entire village smelled quite rank with decay and drying mud. The radar itself had not displayed any new dots, telling her it was secure enough for the time being. Somewhere she could finally rest, maybe even sleep.
Too used to lying on hard surfaces by this point, she chose not to flop down on the bed. Something about it didn’t seem right, like it would too readily channel the fantasy she’d been holding onto in her mind. About waking up at home, this all a horrible nightmare. Waking up in a bed would make it too easy to die, to convince herself to once again put a gun to her head. So she’d chosen a spot on the floor to rest, and eventually sleep deprivation and exhaustion won out over the fear of what would happen if she left her eyes closed for too long.
Waking up was an ordeal. It was no slow rise so much as a sudden shock of awareness. Pain and nausea were first, though they were quickly dwarfed by panic. She’d done almost nothing to bar the door, to give herself any warning in case someone walked in.
Nowhere is safe. Not even if I’m alone.
It wasn’t just contending with others at this point that drove her to sit herself up and frantically check that her weapons were loaded. Her own body and mind were just as much of a danger, from suicidal ideation to serious injuries that wouldn’t see any proper medical treatment for days, if at all.
Sleep had resolved at least one of those things. She wasn’t so much fixated on the idea of ending it all as fearing that soon she would want to once again, that she’d find herself in a place she couldn’t recognize and would decide it was time to leave. The idea wasn’t distant now, but it wasn’t where her mind was at.
As she changed her bandages, using torn linens and pieces of what seemed to be robes to wrap the gauze tightly against her body, she thought back to Lucas. About how many more of him were out there. How many people had made her their target, a reason to keep going? How many people would attack her not because they wanted to live, but just because they wanted her to die?
“Everyone I've met here and talked to agrees that you need to die.”
She fed cartridges into the Hi-Power’s magazine, making up for the seven she left in Lucas. Six more, to a total of thirteen. Looking down at the tiny box, she pictured them all lined up inside. It was marketed as a Hi-Power because it held more cartridges than was typical for pistols at the time. Thirteen was a lot for a handgun back in the thirties.
Thirteen dead. It wasn’t just their friends who would hunt her, either. That high number alone was reason enough for some people, those who weren’t motivated by vengeance. It burned away any connection she had to anyone left, too. Ty, Garnet, maybe even Faith would all prefer to see her dead than leaving this place.
Then there were all of those at home. Who despite everything they knew about the game, despite the bomb around her neck, would still hold Erika responsible. It might never end. The rest of her life, she’d be looking over her shoulder. Someone was always going to want to make her hurt for this.
Then they can come and fucking try it.
They might not have to. Lucas was doing a pretty good job, even after his death. She hissed through gritted teeth as she struggled to force herself back onto her feet, before halting at the sound of a loudspeaker crackling overhead.
The announcements played, the sick fuck continuing to keep the microphone way too close to his mouth such that they all heard his uncomfortably moist, coffee-drinking lips.
Danya’s list of deaths today seemed uniquely desperate. Ivy stabbing Tirzah in the eyes was a highlight, if only in that it remained shocking that Ivy was still even alive at this point. Justin beating Sean to death with a durian fruit, Julien evidently meeting some horrid demise at Blaise’s hands, Willow doing - something - to Sierra.
The most useful information he left was the location of the danger zone - the Pier, just north of here. That meant that the village was now sandwiched between a few different danger zones. It left only a few immediate means of ingress, should she choose to remain here.
Choose. That’s funny.
She stood up, successfully this time, by using the windowsill above her as support. It was time to choose, then. This place was as good as any, but it still remained a shelter. Still a place that would draw in others.
The beach, to the north. Lighthouse is out, so the north end is the next best thing. Find some natural shelter. Limit my exposure, recover. Let Justin, Blaise, and Michael thin out the rest. Let them burn themselves out. I’ve got a way to stay safe, make sure no one can surprise me from here on out.
Switching the collar radar on, she balked at the sudden appearance of three dots at opposite ends of the device’s range, all closing in on the house. Looking out the window, she couldn’t see movement. There was no way out that didn’t mean going through someone, and the radar left no indication as to who they might be.
At first she threw open the window, thinking to climb out. One pathetic attempt was enough to make it clear to her she wasn’t doing that quickly or at all. Her eyes darted around the room, settling on the bed. Hiding under it, perhaps?
A monster actually under the bed this time, hmm? Won’t work, same reason.
“Fuck.”
Looking behind her, she noticed a small sliding door leading into a closet. As quickly as her body would allow, she flung it open and stepped inside. There was a time when she would’ve taken this as another opportunity to speed up the game, using the collar radar as a means of setting up an ambush. Shoot her way out, then leave.
The problem was, she didn’t know what the cost would be this time. At the Infirmary it was bruises and a nasty cut. In the Garden it was a pellet of buckshot to the leg. With Amber it was a mental image that would never leave. Lucas only barely failed to kill her.
The next one just might. Whether it was a mortal wound or a mental one, she was now more than ever keenly aware of just how little of herself she had left to sacrifice.
She closed the door, her vision now a wall of darkness save a long line of white light in the crease of the hinged door, and the soft glow from the collar radar’s screen. Erika watched the dots move closer to the building, and fell still.
It took all the light left in the previous day to even get here, crossing through the middle of the island. Even checking the radar almost religiously, Erika saw almost no one on her way here. Occasionally she’d spot a body lying some distance away, most of them unrecognizable for one reason or another.
Seeing them that way, where it was hard to see their mortal wounds, gave off the eerie impression that some single calamity had descended on the island. Like everyone had just dropped dead on the spot. She tried to stop herself from pondering the likelihood of someone here catching some tropical disease and whether or not they’d tally deaths by transmission or not. Ultimately abstractions like that took up relatively little space in her mind; all she needed to think about was the living, who thankfully had left her well enough alone the rest of the day.
A few times on the way she’d worried she might faint from the heat, from exhaustion, or however much blood she had lost. The hard-fought journey to shelter eventually ended at a house at the edge of the eastern half of the village. It was in marginally better shape than the rest, insofar as it had an intact roof and walls.
There were no bodies inside either, living or dead, though the presence of death was impossible to shake off in this place. With the heat bearing down all day, the entire village smelled quite rank with decay and drying mud. The radar itself had not displayed any new dots, telling her it was secure enough for the time being. Somewhere she could finally rest, maybe even sleep.
Too used to lying on hard surfaces by this point, she chose not to flop down on the bed. Something about it didn’t seem right, like it would too readily channel the fantasy she’d been holding onto in her mind. About waking up at home, this all a horrible nightmare. Waking up in a bed would make it too easy to die, to convince herself to once again put a gun to her head. So she’d chosen a spot on the floor to rest, and eventually sleep deprivation and exhaustion won out over the fear of what would happen if she left her eyes closed for too long.
Waking up was an ordeal. It was no slow rise so much as a sudden shock of awareness. Pain and nausea were first, though they were quickly dwarfed by panic. She’d done almost nothing to bar the door, to give herself any warning in case someone walked in.
Nowhere is safe. Not even if I’m alone.
It wasn’t just contending with others at this point that drove her to sit herself up and frantically check that her weapons were loaded. Her own body and mind were just as much of a danger, from suicidal ideation to serious injuries that wouldn’t see any proper medical treatment for days, if at all.
Sleep had resolved at least one of those things. She wasn’t so much fixated on the idea of ending it all as fearing that soon she would want to once again, that she’d find herself in a place she couldn’t recognize and would decide it was time to leave. The idea wasn’t distant now, but it wasn’t where her mind was at.
As she changed her bandages, using torn linens and pieces of what seemed to be robes to wrap the gauze tightly against her body, she thought back to Lucas. About how many more of him were out there. How many people had made her their target, a reason to keep going? How many people would attack her not because they wanted to live, but just because they wanted her to die?
“Everyone I've met here and talked to agrees that you need to die.”
She fed cartridges into the Hi-Power’s magazine, making up for the seven she left in Lucas. Six more, to a total of thirteen. Looking down at the tiny box, she pictured them all lined up inside. It was marketed as a Hi-Power because it held more cartridges than was typical for pistols at the time. Thirteen was a lot for a handgun back in the thirties.
Thirteen dead. It wasn’t just their friends who would hunt her, either. That high number alone was reason enough for some people, those who weren’t motivated by vengeance. It burned away any connection she had to anyone left, too. Ty, Garnet, maybe even Faith would all prefer to see her dead than leaving this place.
Then there were all of those at home. Who despite everything they knew about the game, despite the bomb around her neck, would still hold Erika responsible. It might never end. The rest of her life, she’d be looking over her shoulder. Someone was always going to want to make her hurt for this.
Then they can come and fucking try it.
They might not have to. Lucas was doing a pretty good job, even after his death. She hissed through gritted teeth as she struggled to force herself back onto her feet, before halting at the sound of a loudspeaker crackling overhead.
The announcements played, the sick fuck continuing to keep the microphone way too close to his mouth such that they all heard his uncomfortably moist, coffee-drinking lips.
Danya’s list of deaths today seemed uniquely desperate. Ivy stabbing Tirzah in the eyes was a highlight, if only in that it remained shocking that Ivy was still even alive at this point. Justin beating Sean to death with a durian fruit, Julien evidently meeting some horrid demise at Blaise’s hands, Willow doing - something - to Sierra.
The most useful information he left was the location of the danger zone - the Pier, just north of here. That meant that the village was now sandwiched between a few different danger zones. It left only a few immediate means of ingress, should she choose to remain here.
Choose. That’s funny.
She stood up, successfully this time, by using the windowsill above her as support. It was time to choose, then. This place was as good as any, but it still remained a shelter. Still a place that would draw in others.
The beach, to the north. Lighthouse is out, so the north end is the next best thing. Find some natural shelter. Limit my exposure, recover. Let Justin, Blaise, and Michael thin out the rest. Let them burn themselves out. I’ve got a way to stay safe, make sure no one can surprise me from here on out.
Switching the collar radar on, she balked at the sudden appearance of three dots at opposite ends of the device’s range, all closing in on the house. Looking out the window, she couldn’t see movement. There was no way out that didn’t mean going through someone, and the radar left no indication as to who they might be.
At first she threw open the window, thinking to climb out. One pathetic attempt was enough to make it clear to her she wasn’t doing that quickly or at all. Her eyes darted around the room, settling on the bed. Hiding under it, perhaps?
A monster actually under the bed this time, hmm? Won’t work, same reason.
“Fuck.”
Looking behind her, she noticed a small sliding door leading into a closet. As quickly as her body would allow, she flung it open and stepped inside. There was a time when she would’ve taken this as another opportunity to speed up the game, using the collar radar as a means of setting up an ambush. Shoot her way out, then leave.
The problem was, she didn’t know what the cost would be this time. At the Infirmary it was bruises and a nasty cut. In the Garden it was a pellet of buckshot to the leg. With Amber it was a mental image that would never leave. Lucas only barely failed to kill her.
The next one just might. Whether it was a mortal wound or a mental one, she was now more than ever keenly aware of just how little of herself she had left to sacrifice.
She closed the door, her vision now a wall of darkness save a long line of white light in the crease of the hinged door, and the soft glow from the collar radar’s screen. Erika watched the dots move closer to the building, and fell still.