Survival Of The Fittest

((Jess Kawazoe continued from Short Circuit))

It was light enough out now that she could see more than a couple feet in front of her nose, and not a moment too frickin’ soon, either. The amount of times she’d stumbled or slipped or tripped over bumps in the road, or deeper patches of snow, or even her own feet had gone way past the point she was able to count. Speaking of her own feet (not the first time she’d heard that phrase said, thanks weirdos on the internet), she had grabbed her own boots, thank heck. She was pretty sure she woulda been swimming in, say, Marshall’s shoes - and had Kai, like, actually even taken his off before they’d fallen asleep? - but she just hadn’t been able to tell until now.

She kept on telling herself she needed to tie the freakin’ laces up as well, but as soon as the reminder went into her head, it suddenly vanished in a puff of smoke. Every single time! She didn’t get it, didn’t know why it was doing that, yo. But eh, whatevs. She’d gotten used to the kinda-odd sensation of her feet slipping about a lil inside her boots, now.

Least, she could delude herself into saying that she was.

Didn’t matter though. Didn’t matter! She wasn’t gonna be out here for long, yo. Not least cause her anger at getting so easily and carelessly dismissed had given way mostly to drive to get shit done, which was, like, better for her mental, not so great for keeping her warm when she was pretty much just in her underwear and several layers of sheets and towels. So! Just a quick jaunt out, find someone, convince ‘em to come back to the safe house, hop skip and jump back home. Easy peasy.

She didn’t want the other guys to worry either, y’know? Sure, she’d been pissed off to hell and back at them, bad enough that she wanted to prove this badly that she was worth a damn, but the bottom line was; they’d rescued her. Saved her even. Dredged her up from the depths and from certain drowning. By the time she got back, the argument would have all (hopefully) blown over. She’d have proven that she was more than just a sickbed patient, they could all kiss and make up, and then they could move on with…

Next step. Whatever that was. Whether that was Chloe’s plan or...

Hmm.

Jess grimaced, and pressed forwards.

There were two unreleased songs on Jess’ computer that she’d been really hoping to put out before the end of the year.

Neither of ‘em were up to scratch just yet. Needed some more tweaks, some more volume balancing, a real heft dose of polish. But the base composition was totally there, yo, and these ones hit real hard if she said so herself. Wouldn’t take too much longer before they were ready and set to break the internet over her knee.

And obviously the best case scenario was that she’d find herself at home, able to put those finishing touches on the better part of half a year’s work, ready to release those tracks in the coming days and weeks, a celebration of life, a stand against this organisation and all the horrors they’d put everyone through, a condemnation but also a message, one that yelled “I Am Here” and that she always would be, always as herself, no matter what.

But if things went tits up, and she wasn’t able to make it back home, because, y’know. Things had, y’know.

Well…

She hoped her parents would find her work. And that they’d let everybody hear it. One final message from her to the world.

And that they’d tactfully ignore her search history.

Her ankles were really starting to yell at her now.

Wasn’t as though she was a total newcomer to walking long distance or anything; she had to walk real far to get to some of her urban exploration locations, y’know. And even once she was at the place, there was still a good bit of walking around to make sure she found the best places to snap photos or get the perfect view and stuff like that.

Plus you had to be more than a little quick on your feet when you got caught snooping around someplace you weren’t s’posed to be, yo.

She’d just been walking for way longer than she’d been expecting to, was all. With laces all undone as well. When’d that happen? She wasn’t the kinda girl to just leave them all untied usually. And hadn’t she…

Ah, forget it. There’d been something in her head that felt like, uh, like a reminder. Or something. But it had come, and it had gone. And she had a goal to be getting onwards. Onto. Yeah

Push past the pain, yo!

In hindsight, she shoulda looked around the village some more for folks.

She’d just been in such a damn hurry to get moving, y’know? Hadn’t wanted to waste time, hadn’t wanted to piss about opening doors and peering into shadowy rooms. Just wanted to get going and get it done.

Course, now she was just… pissing about in the middle of nowhere instead. Of course people would be drawn to civilisation instead of this snowy wasteland. Folks wanted shelter and a place to rest their head, folks wanted four walls protecting them from the cold and the ice.

Maybe it was time to turn back.

Maybe she should.

Maybe it was…

…

Jess kept on walking.

She should have taken more clothes.

She should have taken her bag.

Should have taken the freaking gun at least.

Should have…

…

...

Jess kept walking.

It wasn’t even a goal she’d been dedicated to.

Wait, no.

The goal was. The goal was what she wanted. The goal was what she had to do. It was the… the…

The plan. Marshall’s pla-no. Chloe’s plan. Find all the guys. Lock up the killers. Work together. Make a forthouse. Fortnite. Fortress. Foretress. Fortress.

Fortress.

She’d never been convinced about it. Too many holes in the plan. Was a half-baked noble goal worse than no aim at all? She wasn’t the sorta person to be asked that. Or to answer it. She didn’t know. Not now, not at the besta times. She just knew she wasn’t totally 100% on board with it. That it wasn’t something she’d dedicate her life to.

And here she was, desperately trying to help out with a plan she didn’t even fully believe in.

Maybe she should…

Jess kept on walking.

She stopped still in her tracks the first time her brain skipped a beat and drew a blank as to where she was going.

What she was going there for.

She stood there, like some frostbitten scarecrow, trembling as she waited for her head to reboot.

It did so. Eventually.

There was some deep-seated dread, churning away inside of her, down in the pit of her stomach.

Something that knew just how bad that was. Something that knew that this was wrong.

But when it was getting harder and harder to sort out her own thoughts, it was near impossible to recognise the warning signs from anywhere else in her body.

So she just kept walking.

Her legs were moving her forwards.

She could only tell that they were by glancing downwards, watching them stumble along, push through the snow and carry her along.

She couldn’t feel them. Couldn’t feel any part of herself.

Her hands were shaking when she looked at them. She folded her arms and tucked them in on herself, into the thin layers of fabric wrapped around her.

But she couldn’t feel the trembles any longer.

She kept walking.

She kept walking.