Boundries

[Frozen Smoke]

((Lara Bullock continued from Man soll den Tag nicht vor dem Abend loben))

The silence gripped Lara more than anything. There were no distant yells or echoes of gunshots ringing off the mountain to punctuate the droning of the wind as it whipped up off the coastline. A measure of gratitude filled her for the latter, as it was the only thing that stopped her footsteps from being deafening as her boots crunched through fresh snowfall. The torch in her left hand was off, which only made her right’s grip on the improvised flail tighter, eyes constantly scanning the black-grey mists for the thousand pairs of non-existent eyes she could feel prickling against her skin.

Surprise was her greatest ally. She would not abandon it just for some peace of mind. With each step she took, Lara morphed into an increasingly diminished figure, compressing herself within the confines of her coat, seeking solace from the spray of fresh snowfall that was being blown into her face. The capricious whims of bad weather held no sway on her convictions, they were carved in stone now, and no force - man or nature - would pull her away from it. She would seize her opportunity, wherever it came.

The sound of whistling pierced her thoughts, forcing her to turn off the path to look for the source of it. It served as the perfect cover for her approach, after all. The noise became clearer as she drew in on it, pushing herself across the ridges and vegetation which bit at her feet, a distinct rippling sound like a torn kite being pulled half taught in the wind. It was only as the half-rotting wood of a cabin loomed in front of her out of the darkness that the culprit became clear, ripped tent canvas desperately clinging to it’s frame against the elements. She was careful not to stand up-wind of it as she circled the cabin, straining her eyes to try and discern any motion or signs of life within it, but finding nothing.

Still, the door was open.

A foot trespassed the boundary, and then another.

[Dr Adjective]

[The Queen is dead, long live the Queen.]

Evie's nerves were shot.

Her lungs burned.

Her feet throbbed.

She'd spent she-didn't-know-how-long running, and it had taken its toll. A long road out of town, flinching at any sounds of life, dodging away from anything even approaching an encounter. She was so sure she was being followed. California had had something in her pocket, she and Marshall were surely pissed, she'd just killed their friend, looted her stuff, and sprinted off like a fucking coward. They thought they were better than her, that their moral stance was better than hers, that they were entitled to take revenge for her trangression. Evie was sure of it.

So she'd set her course back to familiar ground. The trapping camp wasn't a perfect choice: her intent had once again been to return to the research station and to somewhere with good sight lines, multiple exits, somewhat cramped to mitigate the god-awful accuracy of her gun, or at least some of those qualities if not all. But she was exhausted, she was terrified, she was convinced that two angry avengers were on her trail. So when she spotted the familiarity of shabby tents and a sagging cabin, Evie conceded to the demands of her endurance and adjusted course, heading inside, sheltering from the snow and rising winds.

Before long, she found herself in exactly the same place she'd been the day before, sat on the floor in the middle of the room, trying to calm her heavy breathing. In her right hand, now gloved again, she held her new lifeline. Her gun. On her left sat two daypacks, with which she busied herself transferring what was left of Chloé's supplies to her own bag. Ammunition. A first aid kit. Food and water, less than she'd like, but more than she'd had. It was calming to have a near-mindless chore to keep her mind ticking over, whilst her conscious thoughts focused on the door and windows, vigilant for the arrival of Chloé's companions.

Yet they never came.

In due course, Evie's breath slowed again. She finished transferring her loot from Chloé's bag to her own. She found a measure of calm.

And then that calm was shattered when the door flew open.

Evie leapt to her feet, threw herself behind a small, overturned table for cover, aimed her weapon at the entrance. Nobody appeared. Just the snow. Seconds passed at a crawl, and before long she reasoned that the wind must have slammed the door, not a human hand. The place was basically derelict, after all. Tentatively, never taking her aim off of the door, Evie approached. One step after another. Slow. Quiet. Toes first, slowly bringing the rest of the foot down behind them, slowing the impact and dulling the noise. Nothing she could do about the creaking, but the howling wind was covering that end. Evie was perhaps halfway to the door when a large figure entered. Not Marshall. Too tall. Taller than Evie herself, if only slightly, She didn't have time to make out facial features before her hands and voice rushed to respond. Gun trained squarely on centre-mass, hands shaking. Voice raised above the wind, tone trembling.

"Stop! I'm armed!"

[Frozen Smoke]

Lara’s ears were still ringing with the echoes of the wind as she found herself faced with three black pits that lingered deeper inside the void, her eyes circling the edge most important one as it stared her down unblinkingly. The water in her mouth seemed to disappear instantly, her tongue sticking to the roof of her mouth as she tried to say something, only for her hands to begin their anxious ascent above her head. The rocks clunked together dully as her handmade flail rested limply in her grasp.

The girl’s voice was strained and warped, wracked with emotion, and just a hint familiar. That made her stomach sink whilst her heart fluttered, her life was in the hands of someone who had let their feelings make them into a puppet, any tug on the wrong string and… Enough.

“I meant no threat.” she croaked, the mistruth sliding between her cracked lips.

There was a terrible smell to the place, she began to realize as she stood frozen in place, staring at the imperceptible form within the gloom. Acrid cordite that reminded her of trap shoots and burnt her sinuses, mingling with layers of the cloying metallic scent she could almost taste which she now knew to be blood, all coated with layers of damp and rot that made her want to gag. She wrinkled her nose, trying to block it out, not wonder how recent any of it was.

Then, something clicked. Lara’s left leg trembled. The inflection when the girl had said 'stop'. She took a step forwards.

“Evie?”

[Dr Adjective]

The voice was familiar. Unable to entirely identify the face through the adrenaline and the half-light, it was a start. Familiar.

The hands went up, and the face became more visible. The dirty-blonde locks, the square features, that barely-perceptible scar. And had Lara recognised her, too. Lara. Lara had left her on less than the best of terms, falling out with Chloé over... god, what had it even been about? Something about doing all she could, mangling her identity. Evie hadn't even been sure at the time, sure certainly wasn't sure now, days later, in her present state. That made her an unknown. Potentially still a threat.

"Lara."

It wasn't a question, more of an acknowledgement. Her composure continued to fail her, her voice continued to waver. The gun did not lower. The hands did not stop trembling. Evie took a step backwards. If she'd been nervous of a fistfight with Marshall, she was downright terrified of one with Lara. Evie summoned up her willpower once more to force her breathing to steady, and she spoke again.

"What... what do you want?"

[Frozen Smoke]

Food that tasted better than gravel. Water without the hint of metal that made her teeth itch. A soft bed to lie in for a whole week. Clothing not soaked with grime and sweat. A room with a big sturdy door and a lock. To give both of her parents a hug and never ever let them go. To hear Uncle George’s advice one more time.

Lara’s desires flooded forth unbidden after Evie’s question, and it took a shaky breath that rattled in her throat to stem the tide. None of those were the answers she would be looking for. Not that Lara had any inkling as to what Evie would want from her, what she could even offer. This felt like a test she had failed to study for, a sentient unchecked box on her to-do list swallowing her up in its confines, whilst her brain scratched for some sort of hint.

“Nothing. I can just leave. If you want.”

She guessed, staking her mark next to the answer which seemed the most likely to be right rather than let the silence stretch even further, and risk running out of time. Evie had been happy to let her walk away from the ensemble they’d briefly shared a few days ago, maybe she’d let her go again?

Lara kept her eyes focused squarely on the figure. They hurt as she tried to guess the expression that was disguised by the heavy shadows that cloaked the girl’s normally soft face, the gentle slope of her nose and swell of her lips rendered as unreadable harsh lines of reflection, the dusting of freckles that nestled just under her eyes rendered invisible.

She tried not to brace herself for the wordless response she feared.

[Dr Adjective]

Lara didn’t seem to mean any harm. It had been the wind that slammed the door, not her, and she’d simply been looking for shelter. Her presence seemed to imply the absence of Marshall and California, too, which wasn’t nothing. She hadn’t chosen to be a good omen, but Evie still credited it in Lara’s favour.

“I… don’t know what I want.”

But there was still a risk. Evie’s prized new possession, her lifeline, her ticket home… it was an object of envy and desire, as she well knew. Lara would be foolish not to covet it, and Evie would be forced to keep it close to her chest. A sudden sympathy for Fitz and his rifle came over Evie with that thought. But he’d simply been gifted his gun. Evie had had to fight for hers, and only now did she consider the burden it represented.

But ultimately, Evie decided what she wanted, at least for the short term. She lowered the gun slightly, still readied but not directly threatening.

“I think I want you to stay?”

[Frozen Smoke]

"Okay."

The relief that washed over her was immense as she took another step inside and peeled the snow crusted hood of her coat back, and brushed a few stray damp locks of hair out from her face. She had no option but to answer quickly, of course. Any hesitation would have been seen as potential untrustworthiness, and then there would be holes in more than her pride, so she meekly obeyed. The door shut behind her, carried by a bashful hand, even as the impulse to push it back and run with all her might stabbed at her heart. Lara tore her hand away from the handle before thought became action. She had to keep playing things cool. The lack of anything left remotely intact inside was an inconvenience though, with seemingly every chair within reach had been turned into firewood, or groaned malevolently when she put the slightest amount of weight on it.

So, she simply stood, swaying from side to side as she swapped which foot she was leaning on as she tried to halt the cramp that was eating at her calves. The option to sit down just didn't quite feel open. Nor did the option to ask if she'd found Kelsey. The two of them had been around each other a lot, but they'd never made it anything official, or at least word had never trickled down to Lara. Which meant word of any issues had no hope of reaching her, let alone what might have transpired on the island - no. That was a landmine best left undisturbed. Safer ground had to be tread.

"Are you hurt at all? I could help."

An offer. She tried to keep her expression neutral, as if she had no interest either way.

[Dr Adjective]

Lara’s body language spoke of fear. That was fair, really. One week down. And somebody who’d survived that long, sunk that much effort into living, was pointing a gun at her. Some part of Evie bristled at the unspoken accusation, that she was dangerous, that she’d shoot a friend just like that. The rest acknowledged that it was plenty rational, and frankly, she didn’t know for a fact that she wouldn’t.

A secret third part found the power she held to be just the slightest bit intoxicating.

Evie pushed that part down. That way madness lay. Instead, she had questions to answer. Was she hurt? Without conscious intent the fingers of her left hand extended to gingerly test her right’s knuckles, finding them still quite tender.

“No I’m, I didn’t get hurt.”

Well, there was what Alex had done to her as well, but she’d largely recovered from that.

“What about you, since you left,”

Evie couldn’t bring herself to say Chloé’s name. She worried her lower lip with her teeth for long enough for the pause to be uncomfortable, rewording on the fly. She found herself lowering the gun further, subconscious at first, but then intentional. It came to rest at her hip, less ready, but ready enough.

“us at the sick bay, uh, what’s your story since that? Not hurt either?”

[Frozen Smoke]

It was impossible for Lara to place the emotion that welled up in her stomach, whilst her head bobbed dumbly in acknowledgement of the statement. She should be happy to learn a friend was healthy, relieved to know Evie could afford to be patient, worried she would be able to put up a fight without the gun, concerned that she was hiding something, dreading the masquerade of her caring act being exposed, disappointed that her ploy to gain her trust had failed. All that, and more, and yet none of it swirled around as she slowly twisted the torch back and forth in her grip. If Evie was free from injury, that meant something else was the cause of her distress, and none of the likely causes for that were good. Fortunately, she broke the silence rather than forcing Lara to do it, but her face still felt numb as she replied.

“I just tried to stay away from trouble. Spent a day with Madeleine, but she wanted to hunt down Josh. Been on my own since then.”

It wasn’t strictly the truth, but it was close enough that it flowed from her throat more easily, believably. As if Evie wouldn’t remember what she’d shouted at Chloe with fire in her heart after she’d revealed her hopeless plan and forced her away. Not that Lara could, though, it was all a blur now in the back of her mind – a faint echo of indignation and intellectual revulsion that still rang in her thoughts. But the sentiment had been clear, she wanted to fight for her chance to live, not lie down to die and hope for a miracle.

“Do you mind if I turn my flashlight on? I-“

She orphaned her admission of self-interest immediately, unsure of the many truths and lies were best picked from the list in her mind. I want to feel safe. I need to see your face. I have to rest my eyes. I never liked the dark. I think I can find something useful. Instead, she stood in tentative silence again, thumb resting against the ridged rubber button as she awaited her answer.

[Dr Adjective]

Nothing eventful then, just survival. Much the same as Evie's story, right up until that very morning at least. It came as somewhat of a relief, despite everything: it still heartened Evie to know a friend hadn't run into hardship, even if that niggling little corner of her brain wanted to remind her that ultimately, they'd all have to come to harm if Evie was going to live past 18.

The mention of Josh threw her, though. The parallel was almost eerie. He'd trashed the gymnasium and terrified Evie with his intense presence, here she was in the cabin that she'd trashed, intimidating Lara just the same. It put that seductive sense of control she'd felt into a newer, grimmer perspective: she'd often considered Josh among her acceptable targets, after all. Yet she still felt it, that intoxicating sense of power, somewhere inside. Finally being the one to be deferred to, the one people had to work around. And then Lara wanted to illuminate the space. The courtesy she'd offered at her entrance and now with that question, Evie could tell it was asking for permission moreso than for approval. Permission from the girl with the gun. That was the dance she'd played before with Alex, with Fitz... and declined to play with Chloé, a gamble that could've cost her her life were she not blessed with inhuman luck. When she'd taken the gun, she'd thought of it as a means to break out of that dance, a thing of power that cowed others around her, but it was becoming abundantly clear that she was still trapped in the same dance. Only now she lead, rather than followed. Now she was protecting what she had from the envious eyes and hands of those that didn't.

But, she decided, this could be her last shot at a halfway-normal human interaction. Last chance to enjoy the balm of human company with only the tension that they might, before the morning announcement confirmed for all that Evie had. Before she was branded with the Mark of Cain for good. So dance she did.

"Yeah, that's fine,"

She recalled Karin. The tunnels. Her only defence there being the chance to dazzle the other girl, back when she'd believed she had a gun.

"Just mind my eyes, yeah?"

Evie paused for a second. Bit her lip.

"Are you hungry?"

[Frozen Smoke]

The silent obligation to reciprocate the question lay unfulfilled. Evie clearly didn’t want to talk about whatever was fraying her nerves, brushing past it to ask another question, whilst a faint click and then a wave of unnatural yellow light ran through the room – the beam aimed at the floor to the side of them both. Lara could finally see the other girl now, not just overlay the features she knew onto a shadow puppet, and it looked like the days had worn heavy on her. The usually vivid palette of dress she wore had been dulled by mud, and the tear on her left side caused her jacket to sag lazily to the side, as if in protest of the ill treatment it had suffered. Evie’s eyes carried the worst of it though, the usually sparkling flecks of pale blue now rendered glassy and sluggish, sunken into their sockets and rimmed with sclera so bloodshot it almost looked pink.

“Yes, a little.”

Lara doubted anyone was eating their fill by now, but a different feeling gnawed at her belly as a different implication formed in her mind, her head dipping down to look at the bag that still hung over her shoulder. Did Evie want what little she had? Or was she just being polite? Her hand dug into the bag, rummaging through the sleeping bag, and parts of the first aid kit she hadn’t been able to squeeze back into the container.

“Have you figured any way to eat these that makes them not taste like tree bark mixed with cardboard?” she asked, half mumbling as most of it was directed towards her bag, before bringing the object of her comments out to be ridiculed to its face. Lara tugged the corners of her mouth apart into a forced, thin smile.

[Dr Adjective]

Instantenously, the mood of the room changed. The shadowy figure with the gun morphed from intimidating wraith to gaunt, exhausted teenage girl. Still tall, broad, generally imposing on some level even without the gun in her hand, but far more vulnerable with the addition of detail.

Lara too was certainly the worse for wear, though less immediately ragged for not having sprinted until her lungs went on strike in protest, not having wept for the loss of Chloé's life and her own innocence alike. She simply looked rough, like someone who'd been homeless and wandering on a frozen rock for a week. Still, the addition of detail likewise defused some tension in Evie's nerves, the other girl was no longer an indistinct shadow on the threshold, but Lara Bullock, a real person, a friend from school, someone who she'd seen vulnerable before, someone she'd helped before. Someone she knew, whose company she could enjoy... perhaps for the last time, now.

But as luck would have it, she took the ambiguous olive branch Evie had offered, and consented to stick around and eat together. A normal human interaction.

"No, not yet," Evie answered, her own dry lips cracking into a weak, but genuine smile. It hadn't taken long after fleeing Chloé's remains for Evie to start fearing she'd never have this again. Claire would hate her, Kelsey would hate her, everything from here on would be the fucking paranoid don't-get-killed dance. Evie didn't even like actual dancing. So Lara's throwaway complaint, taking Evie back not to the gymnasium with Josh, but the cafeteria with her friends, was more welcome than she could likely have imagined or intended. It was just... normal. Just two teens kvetching about shitty food on a school trip.

"It is what it is, right?"

Taking her left glove off was easy. She could do that without even letting go of her gun, and shove it right into her pocket. Next the right, simply switch hands and do the same again, struggling slightly with the lesser dexterity of her off-hand. With the other glove off and joining its twin in her jacket pocket, she let the MAC-11 hang loosely at her left side whilst her right hand set to exploring for food in her own, slightly-better-stocked bag. It didn't quite occur to her yet that the condition of her bare hands would be something of a giveaway.

[Frozen Smoke]

The tension in Lara’s smile eased a little, becoming easier to keep etched on her face as she nodded along with what the other girl said. Another coinflip called correctly. She looked down and brushed some of the debris underneath her away with the side of a boot, whilst hoping it would be the last she had to guess at. When she brought her eyes back up to study Evie’s expression again, the formative ”Can I?...” died in the back of her throat, and she let her legs buckle beneath her until she was sitting cross-legged in something that approximated a comfortable position.

A sigh crept out from her before she could catch it, the twinges of pain from her overworked muscles abating, if only for a moment. One finger idly flicked the crimped foil at the top of the package, it making a satisfying flit every time she repeated the motion. The begrudging acceptance that this could be the last thing they would taste lingered in the air.

“The things I would do for some hot sauce.” She continued, trying to add a chuckle at the end to mask her melancholic tone.

Flit.

It took her a moment longer to realise that she was waiting for her dining partner to be ready to eat before starting herself. The vestigial remnant of table manners, a fragment of the politeness that had been drilled into her as crucial for her whole life, before all of this had stripped that façade away in just a few days. It was stupid, but it made her smile widen a little, and she shook her head at the absurdity of it all. A pair of fingers grabbed at the corner of the package and tore it open messily, before snapping a chunk off of it and popping it into her mouth.

As she ground the dry, mealy substance between her teeth, her eyes wandered around the room trying to find something for her mind to focus on other than the hints of flavour which only served to emphasise it’s blandness. The gun was hard to make out, and Lara had never been one of the folks who could tell you a firearm’s name, family history and social security number just by eye. It was small though, just a bit bigger than a handgun. She wondered what Evie had had to go through to get that.

Was that sesame, maybe?

Her chewing slowed as the other girl raise her own bar to her mouth, the bronze streaks marring her knuckles visible even in the tinted light, medals attesting to her success. Lara was fairly sure she hadn’t heard her name called. No, that wasn’t right, she was certain she hadn’t. Evie had managed to get the gun, and fill her bag, all without drawing attention to herself – but not without cost. The half-chewed bar stuck as she swallowed, a thin film of floury substance coating the inside of her mouth as she put her flattened palm in front of it whilst she spoke.

“Your hands – are you sure you’re okay?”

[Dr Adjective]

Lara sat. Evie wasn’t sure if the accompanying grunt was regular tall people joint pain, or something more specific to their situation. Unsure how to ask, she simply didn’t. Instead, she rooted out a protein bar of her own and joined the other girl on the floor.

Setting the gun down in her lap and her bag at her side, Evie smirked at the wish for hot sauce. Her own tolerance for spicy food was moderate at best, her palate expanded by dietary restrictions but still firmly within the boundaries of White Girl. Still, even the sting of something too spicy for her would probably be a welcome change from the oppressive dullness of food apparently designed without enjoyment in mind whatsoever.

“Or at least put some chocolate on them, jeez.”

Then again, there’d most likely be milk in that. Evie was at least glad they’d packed the bags with food that could only be objected to from an aesthetic perspective, not moral or religious. At least she wasn’t gluten intolerant.

Then Lara felt the need to ask about her knuckles. In the low light and in her haste to tuck in, she’d almost forgotten the dried-on evidence of her earlier encounter. In the spirit of the light-hearted banter Lara had begun with her hot sauce comment, Evie almost answered that she should see the other guy.

Years ago, Evie had skinned her knuckles doing some stupid thing or other with Steve. She didn’t even remember what it had been, or how she’d gotten hurt, the memory was fixed on the aftermath. His Extremeness had rushed over, all concerned, asking what had happened, Evie had laughed it off, wanting to look tough among the boys, and told him he should see the other guy. Very cool and macho moment, she’d looked strong, and everyone had had a good laugh imagining her beating somebody up instead of worrying about her bleeding hand.

But Steve was dead now. Jezzie Stark had murdered him. But could Evie even hold that against her any more? Because the other guy was Chloé Delacroix, and she’d gone and murdered her, hadn’t she? Following a long silence, pitifully justified with slow chewing whilst her guilty eyes remained tellingly downcast just the same, Evie finally answered.

“I… I’m fine. It’s fine. I don’t want to talk about it.”

[Frozen Smoke]

Their eyes converged on the same spot that lay between them.

The weight in Evie’s words were clear enough. That lack of attention would be brief. Soon, her name would be spoken, and added to the lists of former friends willing to die for dead dreams. Lara nodded in acquiescence to her request. How many people had killed by now, 20? 30? It was probably as likely to run into someone who had taken a life as not. It made no difference, really.

She wiped her palm off on her jeans, and then numb fingers broke off another piece of her bar. Her head didn’t rise as she spoke.

“Is there anything you want to talk about?”

Her voice was freeze-dried, as neutral and calm as she could force it to be. The sound of a protein bar being ground between teeth followed.