Survival Of The Fittest

((Rebekah Hayes continued from All The Flowers Are Gone))

Rebekah stood outside the sheriff's office, shivering in her Snuggie. She squinted up at the sky. The sun was up there somewhere, but it was hard to make it out through the cloud cover. The three of them had opted to stop in at the Sheriff's Office for lunch after finding it abandoned. It was a good place to take a breather and sit down for a bit before they continued hiking up the mountain.

She bobbed slightly, shuffling a bit to keep warm. It was chilly out. She had volunteered to stand guard while Jess and Beatrice rested; she probably could have done it just as effectively from inside the building, but she liked being outside. Rebekah wasn't generally a fan of winter since most of her animal friends tended to disappear into their burrows until spring, but the visuals made up for it. Even on a day like today where the clouds were gloomy and there were shadows everywhere, the contrast between the dark sky and the bright snow felt just a little bit magical. Besides, even the most boring sky was more interesting than some dingy old building.

But the biggest reason that Rebekah didn't mind the cold was that they were going to the hot springs today! A little cold would make the warm water that much better. Today's visit was the first (and presently only) item on Rebekah's bucket list. She'd seen pictures of the Radium Hot Springs up in Canada - this really cool outdoor pool in the mountains where you could swim and see mountain goats and bighorn sheep up in the cliffs nearby. Her dad had never really been able to afford a trip like that, but she'd always wanted to go visit it someday. So if she never made it to Radium, this would be the next best thing. Plus, it'd be a good excuse to get out of the clothes she'd been wearing for almost a week. They were started to smell a bit. It'd probably be really good for Jess's injuries, too. And it'd definitely help Beatrice relax a bit, she always seemed super tense.

All in all, it seemed like it was gonna be a great day.

[Bethany Lyon takes the rudder by the wheel, steers into the sun.]

That was one thing to say for herself, at least Beth was technically stepping out of Shawn’s shadow and taking her own initiative on this journey. She’d been following him around since they’d had to leave Przemyslaw behind, now she could choose her own way.

How long ago had she left Przemek there… where was it she’d left him? She hoped he was okay. Hoped he could forgive her. It had been the right thing to do, on balance, but it still felt wrong.

Or at least, something felt wrong.

Bethany could feel something wet roll down her cheekbone. Was it raining?

She must’ve taken a wrong turn somewhere. She was going to… to the hot spring? Yes. The hot spring. It took some focus, but she remembered it. Why was her head still so fuzzy? The announcement hadn’t come, she must’ve overslept, so how had she not properly woken up yet? But anyway, she’d ended up near the town. Off in the distance she could see some kind of building, a ranger station or something, squat and square. It was so cold. She could stop there for a time, warm up, find her bearings. Maybe there’d be a map on the wall or something.

On approach, she spotted someone. The weird cloak she wore made her look like some kind of comic book hero at first glance, but soon Bethany recognised the Homecoming Queen. The weird raccoon girl. The cheerleader. Rebekah.

Cheerleader… that drew a connection. Yes, that was it. Just like Aracelis.

And she was standing guard outside just the kind of building a wounded friend might want to shelter in. Beth wanted to shelter there too after all, rather unaware of the extent of the blood matting the left side of her face, entirely aware of the unevenness of her gait.

“You!”

She called out, voice shakier than she anticipated, and continued to approach. She didn’t see a weapon, at least. Could be anything under the cloak-thing, though.

“Aracelis Fuentes!”

Wait. That was just a name. Needed context, details.

“Have you seen her? Or Shawn Bellamy?”

"You!"

Rebekah hadn't noticed the human girl's approach until she was disconcertingly close. The human girl hobbled towards her in a cockeyed sort of way, half her face covered in unnatural shadow and leaning heavily on some kind of pointy stick. Coupled with the shouting, the overall effect put Rebekah in the mind of a crazed old soothsayer from one of those old Shakespeare plays, the kind who'd show up chanting ominous prophecies of doom and cackling to themselves.

"Aracelis Fuentes!", the girl blurted out suddenly.

The name gave Rebekah pause. What did she mean by that? She'd already heard from the announcements that Eden and Ashlee were dead, Angelo too... Had Aracelis been attacked? The two of them had been together, and now Aracelis was sending her to find help? The idea put a chill down Rebekah's spine.

“Have you seen her? Or Shawn Bellamy?”

The girl drew closer, her voice more demanding now. There was something unnatural about her, something deeply, innately wrong in her movements - and as she draw closer, Rebekah saw now that it wasn't shadow on the girl's face, but dark red blood staining her hair and cheek. All of the alarm bells in her head started going off. If Beatrice saw this girl, she'd probably freak right out. Best to figure out what she wanted and send her on her way peacefully.

"Aracelis? No... I... haven't seen her, or..." Rebekah blanked on the name. "...That guy. Why are you looking for her?"

Standing guard. Yes. That’s what she was doing. The cheerleader standing guard in front of the building. Beth hadn’t seen a weapon yet, but there could be anything hidden out of sight. Anything at all. Why was Rebekah protecting her? She was a weird person, but not a dangerous one, not by Bethany’s estimation. One of those save the animals types, probably. So why defend a killer, just because she was a teammate in another life?

“You’re hiding her,” Beth decided, staggering closer.

“She tried to kill Przemek and I, killed…”

Beth trailed off. Somewhere in her mind was the knowledge that it was Constance Blanchet that Aracelis had successfully killed, but she couldn’t summon the name.

“Camera girl… leftist… and Shawn’s, he’s missing, and all my…”

She couldn’t remember what it was she was saying. Something about why her bag was so light now. Didn’t she have a heavy pickaxe in there before? Her pickaxe was missing. And raccoon girl was protecting Aracelis from her just retribution. That’s what it was. Beth kept on moving forwards. She felt okay. Didn’t need the spear to walk, just maybe needed it to hand in case she stumbled. She was fine. She has to be fine.

“Aracelis, I have to stop her, just step aside. I don’t want to fight you Rebekah, you’re innocent.”

The human girl was really close now. Rebekah could smell her blood on the breeze, along with traces of whatever else was matted up in her hair. Aracelis had apparently tried to kill this girl; by the looks of things, she'd only barely failed. The girl was advancing, determined, threatening to fight her if she didn't let her past. The stick in her hand looked much sharper up close. She was an armed stranger, exhibiting hostile intent and aggressing on Rebekah's personal space. Shirley Frobisher would have krav maga'd her five paces back.

Rebekah held up a hand to stop the intruder.

"Look... I don't wanna fight you either. Aracelis isn't here, just me and some friends. If you wanna come inside and see for yourself, you can. But one of my friends can't handle the sight of blood, so you need to stay back, okay? I'll need to warn them ahead of time that you're coming in."

Rebekah took a half-step back, and instinctively glanced behind her. Her blood ran cold. The gun. She'd taken it with her to stand guard, but after everything with the Flanagan boy she hadn't felt comfortable carrying it around; she'd left it leaning up against the edge of the doorframe, in the shadows. It was just a hair out of reach - no way to grab it without telegraphing the movement and provoking the girl. But she couldn't just leave it sitting there and let this human get her hands on it, either.

"Just... stay there," she repeated, keeping her voice calm. "I have a gun here, but I'm not gonna use it. I'm just gonna pick it up real slow, and I'll go in and warn them."

She took another half step, and slowly reached down for the barrel.

Plainly, Beth did not believe her. Friends? How conveniently vague not to name any of them. And she claimed to welcome Bethany whilst all of her body language said a clear an unambiguous no. Unless, wait, how had she arrived at the notion that Rebekah was shielding Aracelis again? Something about cheerleaders. Sometimes Bethany wished she could’ve been a cheerleader, but no, she had to go with her dad on hikes and to the firing range. She never could quite be the son he obviously wanted.

Back in reality and as if following Beth’s own wandering mind, Rebekah then introduced a gun into the mix, and her focus rapidly returned to the situation at hand. No, Beth wasn’t fucking stupid, she wasn’t about to let her obstacle arm up just like that.

Under other circumstances she probably would’ve had something to say. Something commanding, or at least witty, to take control of the situation. Instead she just grunted with exertion, lurching forwards and lunging the business end of her spear in the general direction of Rebekah’s gun. Maybe she could knock it away, or hurt her hand a bit, ward her off, something like that. She couldn’t really hold it against Rebekah, wanting to protect a friend and all. It was a noble enough instinct, and she wasn’t a killer, so Beth didn’t really want to hurt her.

If her shoulder had fully cooperated with her brain, maybe that would’ve panned out.

Instead, roughly sharpened wood met flesh, and not of the hand.

It didn't feel like it was supposed to feel. It hardly felt like anything at all, barely more than a pinprick. If Rebekah hadn't heard the unearthly squeak made by the stick punching right through her ski jacket she might have thought she hadn't been stabbed at all. But after a half second, she felt something - still not pain, but a horrible, foreign sort of resonance. She could feel the other girl's grip, every vibration and tremor of her hands, traveling up through the stick as if the wood had melded to her flesh. The wound itself was obscured - the Snuggie, somehow missed by the thrust, had draped itself awkwardly over the stick and created a sort of makeshift tent sprouting from her midsection.

Rebekah gasped. It felt hard to breathe. The blow had knocked the wind out of her,

All that training, all those classes. She knew the techniques and the moves, could have done all of them in her sleep, but when it actually mattered, when it actually could have done something, she'd hesitated and she'd been in the wrong position and she'd left herself wide open. This would never have happened to Shirley Frobisher.

Her hand clenched around the gun barrel. Gripped it tight.

If there was one upside to having a spear lodged in her abdomen (and that was a pretty big "if," honestly), it was that the feral human girl not only had her hands full but was also, technically, unarmed.

Self-defense wasn't about hurting the other person any more than necessary. It was about deterrence, giving yourself room to escape. But this wasn't self-defense, not anymore. This was Beatrice-and-Jess-defense.

She shoved the girl back, felt something tear free inside her. Hefted the rifle like a baseball bat. Sighted on the girl's head. Then swung for the bleachers.

What Bethany felt certainly felt like more than a pinprick.

When she lunged forwards, she felt a very different kind of recoil than she anticipated. Rebekah was meant to jerk away, she was supposed to have her spear strike the wall, maybe bat the gun down to the ground where it’d be foolhardy to grab for it. Instead the resistance was soft, soft at first at least, growing tougher over the couple of seconds before Beth was able to arrest her motion. Then she stood there. Rebekah seemed about as dumbstruck as she was, but strangely not showing much in the way of pain.

Bethany didn’t know what to do. She hadn’t meant for this, hadn’t meant to…

Unfortunately, her train of thought was interrupted there, by another non-pinprick sensation. While her eyes were locked on where her spear pierced Rebekah’s torso and her thoughts locked on where it had all gone wrong, the other girl had been moving. First she felt surprisingly strong hands on her shoulders, then Beth felt her knee meet the ground. But, no, she was fine, wasn’t she? Where did her strength go?

Bethany looked up.

There was Rebekah, holding onto her gun the wrong way around. There was something on the butt of it, something liquid, thick and viscous.

A hand came up to her temple. Came away warm, wet, and red.

Bethany looked down.

There was Shawn’s spear, red with blood too. There was just so much blood all of a sudden. Had she been bleeding this whole time? She didn’t remember. Why had she been fighting? Aracelis wasn’t here. She was… and… Shawn, he’d…

It was a struggle to will strength into her neck, at some point it had drooped, maybe that’s why she’d been looking at the ground. But Bethany turned her eyes back up, trying to look Rebekah in the eye, not focus on the gruesome wound someone had inflicted on her, no, that Beth had done to her. Oh God, why had she done that?

“I’m… I…”

What was she trying to say again? That she was sorry? That she hadn’t meant for this?

Strength failed her, and Bethany toppled sideways into the snow, still mumbling, barely audible.

((Jessica Romero continued from All The Flowers Are Gone))

Jessica sat just inside the sheriffs' office, more or less alone with her thoughts. That meant she was dwelling on yet another one of her regrets. The three of them hadn't spoken much on their journey, or maybe Jessica just hadn't been speaking. Rebekah and Beatrice hadn't disowned her though and in a way that was good enough. She still had a group that accepted her, however uneasy the fit may have been on both sides.

No one had brought up her latest murder since they'd left the site of it. Jessica had considered how it must have felt for her family back in Salem and Whitefish. When she had been young, Jessica knew it had to have been when she had been eight or nine because they'd been living in Whitefish at the time, her dad had shown her how to use a gun. It was only a small handgun and he'd been very clear that she'd only need to use one as a last resort to try and scare away a bear or mountain lion. He'd instructed her to fire either into the air or ground near the animal, never at it. He'd never mentioned using a gun against people and Jessica assumed he'd never even considered the idea, given how he was always talking about how good people were.

Then she had picked up a gun and used it against people to defend herself, twice. Once for the bear and once for the lion. She wondered what he'd think when he saw or heard about what she had done. Rebekah said she understood but Jessica wasn't sure if she believed her and Beatrice hadn't said anything, so Jessica knew she didn't trust her.

With her back getting sore from her position against the wall Jessica stood and pushed her arms back, trying to make her shoulder blades touch. She winced when she felt the familiar crackling in her spine but at least her back didn't feel locked up.

As she was already stood up Jessica decided to stretch her legs out and walked over by the door at the entrance to the sheriffs office. When she did so she heard what sounded like a scuffle, for a moment she froze in place not sure what to do, then when she heard someone fall she made her decision.

The door burst open as Jessica emerged out into the street. She saw the girl on the floor and the stab wound in Rebekah's stomach.

"Rebekah!"

Jessica rushed to the girls side. She glanced over to the other girl on the floor, she could see her mouth moving and hear her mumbling something.

“What happened?”

((Beatrice Briggs continued from All The Flowers Are Gone))

She’d never been to a hot spring before.

Truth be told, she didn’t really know what to expect from this one. Her only real exposure to them previously had been through video games, primarily the Pokemon games on the GameBoy Advance. In those games, stepping into the hot springs would completely heal all the Pokemon in your party, no matter what status ailments they had, or even if they were fully fainted. It would be nice if this real hot spring in real life had the same effect on people, but Beatrice knew that was a particularly unrealistic thing to wish for.

She had other concerns about it, too, on both a small and grand scale. Those hot springs, in-game, could be found on the sides of volcanoes, geothermal heat keeping the pools bubbling and warm. Did that mean the mountain that dominated the skyline of the island was really a volcano instead? Dormant or not, the idea of lava flowing beneath her feet whenever she walked along the cliffs and inclines of this place was enough to unsettle her. And what was she supposed to do about clothing in the hot spring? Were you supposed to change before getting into the water? She hadn’t brought any swimwear on the trip, because she didn’t actually own any. She really hated exposing herself in any manner around other people. In the changing rooms, she would either be the first girl in her lacrosse kit, or the very last, once the majority of the room had made their way back outside.

These questions had been gnawing away inside of her mind since they had made the journey from cabin back to the town. Maybe if she had been on her own again - as she had been for the trip made in reverse - they would have taken over her thoughts entirely. Perhaps she would have seen cracks of lava breaking through the earth in front of her, accompanying the bloodstained pile of snow that was always at her back.

But with Rebekah and Jessica at her side, it was much easier to disengage from these fears, to cut them off before they spread too far and too fast. Whenever she started worrying a little too much about what might have been brewing away underground, she moved a little closer to Rebekah’s side, and that anxiety melted away right into that river of magma. Neither of the two girls would force her to change out of her current clothes if she didn’t want to. The idea of just sitting on the rocks by the side of the spring, letting the steam coil around her to warm and soothe her, the only sound the gentle bubbling of the water at her feet, sounded just as inviting an idea.

They had a goal now. She had a goal, alongside her friends. It was nothing to do with what they had been tasked to get on with by Danya and the rest of the terrorists. And truly, when she thought about it more and more, about what they had planned, a trip and a day out and nothing to do with the blood and the snow, it made her heart soar and her hands flap.

She hadn’t thought there would be anything to actively look forwards to out here.

Beatrice still wasn’t certain on what to say when it was just herself and Jessica in the same room, though. She had been trying to work out how to broach the silence, ever since Rebekah had left to stand guard, but she hadn’t been able to conjure up a suitable answer before the other girl had followed after, leaving Beatrice to her meager lunch of bread and crackers. She wanted to find that magic sentence, that would halt this awkward quiet between the two of them - the ‘elephant’, her dad would say, but she had never come close to understanding what that had meant - and she would, eventually. All the more reason to look forward to their trip to the hot springs. They hadn’t been afforded a chance to properly relax and talk. It would be good for all of them, she was certain.

She had realised, of course, that they were back in the building she had first woken up in. It had taken a good few minutes, having only exited, not entered, it prior, but the layout of the doors and corridors leading away from the main room, had gradually become more and more familiar until she had worked it all out. She could pinpoint the exact desk she had hidden under, almost completely unchanged and unmoved since she had been left behind all those days ago. She had shied away from that section of the room. She had kept her back to it.

But the cold, lonely sensation that had permeated the building before was gone now, even with her sitting by herself. She had allies, friends, who were just outside. They would still be there, no matter how long she took to eat. They would be back in a few minutes’ time, ready to move on, all set for their afternoon trip to the hot springs.

In fact, she could hear them talking right now.

Why were their voices raised, though?

And why was there now a draught, running through the once-warm office?

Her axe was in her hands before she knew it. She got to her feet, tin of crackers left askew on the floor, crumbs surrounding it, a worryingly familiar sinking sensation in her chest pulling at her heart, tugging it forwards towards the front door of the building. The door was wide open. Through the rectangle of light, she could see Jessica’s back, Rebekah’s side, the two girls pressed close to one another.

Beatrice stepped forwards into the doorway, squeezing the handle of the axe beneath her fingers.

“Rebekah? Jessica? What’s… what’s going on?”

Tap tap tap. Tap tap tap.

Her heart was racing. She’d just… she’d…

She looked down at the girl’s head. Dolphin’s brains are split in two, completely split in half. One half sleeps while the other keeps going.

Jess was here, wanting to know what had happened.

“That girl, she… came out of… nowhere.” She wilted, like her mom was here, asking about mudstains on the rug. Couldn’t get the sentences out in a full breath. “She was acting crazy… she saw the gun… and she…”

She pointed at the girl on the floor. The girl on the ground was mouthing something, her lips opening and closing, like a fish gasping in the bottom of a boat. Trout can only survive being out of water for a maximum of thirty seconds. The girl didn’t seem like a threat, not now, but she’d mentioned a Shawn and there could be a Shawn and they had to get away. “She’s… not alone. We can’t stay here… We’ll get Beatrice, go out the back.”

Rebekah moved towards the door. “I’m sorry. I… I had to.”

She wiped a hand across her brow, dashing away a bit of cold sweat. Swallowed, trying to get a handle on her thoughts. Her heart wasn’t slowing down at all, even though the fight was over.

Jess had killed people. Jess knew. Knew how it felt, knew what it was like, that feeling when you killed someone and your hands went clammy and cold, and your heart wouldn’t stop racing, and you couldn’t catch your breath. Jess would know better than anyone that she had to do it, she couldn’t let the girl stab Jess and Beatrice, so she had to pick up the gun and - Sea otters can use rocks as clubs, they can use them to smash open clams and abalones, they can smash the skulls of their enemies, they don’t but they could, they could and they should if they have to, it’s not wrong if they have to, it’s self-defense, it’s not wrong - Jess would understand. Had to understand. Wouldn’t hate her for this. Would she? She looked Jess in the eyes.

But Jess wasn’t looking back at her. She was looking at her body. At the part where the stick had gone.

“It’s fine. It’s just… a scratch. It doesn’t even hurt. It’s just… it’s… nothing.”

The door opened. Beatrice! Rebekah tugged the Snuggie down automatically. Hiding the scratch, so Jess would stop staring and Beatrice wouldn’t freak out. She pressed herself more closely into Jess’s side, putting up a barrier between Beatrice and the dying girl.

“Hey Beatrice! All… rested up? We should get going… we gotta get there before the sun starts going down, you know? Let’s… let’s go get the backs, and we’ll go out the back.”

She pushed gently on Beatrice’s shoulder, turning her away, leading her past Jess and back into the building. Felt a twinge of something. Put her hand to her side, and her fingers came away - Red, red breasted robin, red-eyed tree frog, red like a scarlet ibis, they’re red because of the crabs they eat, they’d be brown otherwise, no pain but red, a lot of the scaly slimy things in the deep dark depths of the ocean are bright red because there’s no red light down there so everything else only sees them as black - and she jammed her hand deep into her pocket, in deep dark depths underneath the Snuggie where no light could reach, wiping the blood off inside her pocket. Wiping it off because Beatrice would see it and be afraid, and there was no reason to be afraid, nothing was wrong, but Beatrice would be afraid anyway. It was just a scratch, and there was no reason to panic.

This wouldn’t wreck their day. Couldn’t wreck their day. They were going to the hot springs. It could still be a perfect day.

Everything was gonna be fine.

((Rebekah Hayes, Beatrice Briggs, and Jessica Romero continued in One Restful, Gentle, Happy Final Day))

Bethany wasn't sure how much time had passed. She knew that she was cold. That was impetus enough.

In front of her was a door. A tall door? No, no she was just lying at its foot. Just perspective. Why was she lying on the floor? Memory continued to fail her. Something about Shawn, or her hair, or raccoons. None of those broad concepts seemed apt to explain why she was shivering on the ground. There had to be more, but it escaped her.

She did know she didn't want to die like this, though. Some part of her mind seemed quite fixated on that, on the immediacy of death. That thread bore fruit, and pictures of how she'd gotten here trickled back. She'd been searching for something. She'd met someone hostile. No, not hostile, territorial. Defensive. Did that make Bethany the aggressor? Probably. She must've had a good reason. Bethany wasn't an unreasonable person, was she?

Bethany pressed a palm down onto the cold ground, hoisted herself up onto her knees. Even that meagre movement felt like an Olympic effort. There was a large wooden branch near to hand, maybe that would help. Its end was sharp, like a spear, and more importantly that sharp end was discoloured, a different shade of brown. Blood, not fresh. Bethany didn't feel as though she'd been stabbed with it, she was reasonably sure she'd be able to feel such a wound. Oh. Of course. She'd been the one holding it.

Gathering up the spear with shivering, fumbling hands, Bethany pushed herself up to stand. Her legs protested, but ultimately agreed to carry her weight. She staggered through the door before her, into some kind of reception area. Her legs protested again: walking hadn't been part of the deal. Bethany stumbled, caught herself against a long desk, slid down until she was sitting with her back to it. By now the pieces had mostly come together. She'd attacked that girl, Rebekah? She'd believed Rebekah had been her enemy, but now it felt like she'd been mistaken. It was Aracelis she wanted, she'd just hated her that much.

With perspective, it was impossible to deny it any more. Hate had gotten her here. It wasn't justice that she'd been chasing. She wasn't a hero, she'd just given herself a plausible excuse.

Bethany's lips moved, but she couldn't produce the words. She wanted to tell Przemyslaw that she was sorry. She should never have abandoned him. She wanted to apologise to Rebekah, too. It was probably too late for either to matter, both were going to die soon enough, and both would be her own stupid, selfish fault.

And she felt so cold.

Bethany tossed her spear aside. It made a pitiful distance before clattering into a short roll on the floor. Her hand came up to feel the side of her head. Not even wet any more, just crusted with so much dried blood. God, she had so much to answer for, and it looked as though she'd be answering for it fairly soon.

She hoped, at least, that Shawn was safe, wherever he'd ended up. Her one true friend. She'd known she'd have to face Saint Peter without him one way or another, but now that it felt so imminent, she wasn't at all ready.

Bethany didn't want to be alone.

The cold seeped deeper into her bones, and once again, Bethany lost the strength to hold up her head. She slumped forwards, closing her eyes.

Something near her palm felt warm.

She didn't even look, just reached her fingers out, closed her hand around it, whatever it was.

Her body slid down towards it,

but nobody felt her shoulder hit the ground.

[Bethany Catherine Victoria Lyon, 2003-2021 †]