Survival Of The Fittest

((Leslie Romero continued from My Brother's Keeper))

Leslie plodded up the steps to the hot springs behind Aracelis, making sure she didn’t suffer a slip and fall before reaching the destination outlined on the map as hot springs. When they got to the top, he gratefully sat on a rock and took his shoes off, peeling the socks away and flexing his aching feet. His legs burned from exertion that he was only used to in the past few days.

Leslie figured maybe this was a good enough goal when they had set out. It would be nice to feel some warm water. It would be a welcome change from being cold all the time. In the colder weather at home, his mom would sometimes say that Cubans weren’t built for this weather, and she was right.

"You can go first, if you want to," he said, making a show of turning away from the warm pools. It was peaceful here, and that sort of made him even more anxious. It was like this was a trap set by nature. But after over a week he could feel the sweat and the grime and the violence settle on his skin in a thick film that made him want to tear his skin off. It was an insane impulse, but he felt it like wanting to scratch a mosquito bite. He just wanted to rip the flesh off his muscles to stop the itchy, gritty, tingling.

But he resisted and instead started fishing around inside his bag.

They hadn’t spoken about whatever had happened with Lúcio since they had left. Leslie wanted to know what the fuck happened. It seemed like everything was under control, and then suddenly one of the only kind of cool people he’d talked to was running off and Aracelis was sobbing on the floor and telling him how they could divide the stuff.

"Hey, Aracelis…"

It wasn’t his business, so he didn’t ask, but it was natural to want the chisme or at least to want some context.

"…."

Yeah, no. Bail out.

"I think we need to go shopping again soon."

((Aracelis Fuentes continued from Dead Body))

Aracelis ached. She didn't think it had been the mountain trek that had caused it—although it hadn't helped—it was more likely the combined effect of everything that had happened to her. Her betrayed, beaten, and disfigured carcass dragging itself around a cold and wild landscape, powered by spite but still subject to all the same limits of a regular human body. Aracelis had been exhausted before, she'd been in long cheer club practices in gyms where A/C was more of a suggestion than an installation. She'd cartwheeled, flipped, rolled, and tumbled until her ankles were covered in a cast of athletic tape and her knees were covered in a stratum of support sleeves. She'd pushed through that, rolled ankles, twisted knees, bumps, bruises, concussions, and more. She had picked herself up off the floor, with sweat falling off her like a shower, unable to raise her arms above her shoulders, and still continued to practice, repeating the same moves over and over again. Until she was left breathing so hard that she could feel her ribcage compressing her empty lungs, and every breath made her body feel empty. The sound of everything around her muffled by the sound of her own breathing in her ears as she forced her body to continue, fighting for every step, hop and jump. Counting down the seconds in her head until the full out was over and she could collapse onto the mats to rest before it was time to go again. She had been there before, more than many of her classmates had, she was sure of that, because she was her. She was the one that pushed and fought through to reach that next level. She was strong and she was quick, an explosive force on the mat, able to hit moves that you'd only expect boys to, she was destined for a big program and nationals.

Or at least she had been. Aracelis still felt that same familiar exhaustion, that same fight to keep her limbs moving, but all of her explosion had abandoned her, the force she had possessed and been able to summon no matter how tired she got was gone. She was just another person in a withered, dying body. She hated the feeling and she hated Bethany and Molly for causing it.

"Huh?" Was Aracelis' initial response until she realized what Leslie had said, then she nodded. "Oh, uh, thanks."

After dropping her bag she began to peel her clothes off, realizing that they were all stuck to her by a film of grime, dirt, and blood. Then she submerged herself up to her neck, closing her eye as the warmth washed over her.

They opened again as she cast a suspicious glance over at Leslie following his suggestion. It was unlike him, she had been the one to bring up and say when she thought they needed to head out to get supplies and typically Leslie had talked her down and argued for patience. But still, she wasn't going to say no.

"Alright," She began, "How much do you think we need?"

Leslie looked at the bag sitting in front of him, zoning out a little as he stared. Behind him he heard splashing around. It made him feel kind of strange to have confirmation Aracelis was bathing behind him.

Maybe it was a testament to how trust was built differently in this situation. It wasn't your teammates or friends who you could trust most, but the person you've been with a few days. The people who had the full opportunity to stab you and you them, but you haven't for whatever reasons.

Leslie sighed and pulled his bag over. He could feel Aracelis's skeptical gaze in the question. He tilted his head to the side and put a hand on his head.

"Depends on what someone has on them. We could use more food and - " he paused for a half second " - bandages."

She ran her hands up and across her arms, then around her neck and shoulders. As she did so the water around her began to turn black, then red before it faded away. Next, she scrubbed her hands down her chest as she listened to Leslie explain his thinking. It felt like a stupid thought but as she ran her hands across her legs she realised how hairy they were starting to get and grimaced.

"Yeah, bandages," She said absentmindedly as she carefully wiped two fingers across her face. As she spoke she could taste the blood in the water as it ran down her face. Multiple people had tried to kill her since she had first woken up on the island, but the joke was on them, she'd outlasted them all. Beth had nearly managed it but she'd been killed not long after their fight and Ashlyn had also recently died. Aracelis shut her eye and leaned her head back onto the edge of the spring, smiling as she thought about it. She was going to outlast all those bitches.

"When do you want to head out then?"

Leslie restrained a groan in response to Aracelis since it seemed like she wasn't paying that close attention to the conversation, which felt pretty important. He pressed a finger to the middle of his forehead between his eyes, furrowed his brow, and counted to five, which made him feel a little better.

He wasn't sure why she was deferring to him because he didn't know what the fuck he was doing. That felt like the problem a lot of the time.

"We just have to figure out where people would probably go," he mumbled, which wasn't an answer to her question.

And yeah, maybe he never knew super well what the fuck he was doing but when he was alone and didn't know what the fuck he was doing, it was less pressure. He couldn't be held accountable for making bad calls on his own except by the intrusive thoughts.

"As soon as we're done here. I won't take long, and you're going to get prune-y if you stay in too long. Weird wrinkle fingers or whatever," he said, feeling like he might be losing his mind somehow through such a mundane observation.

Aracelis reached behind her head, her hand brushing across the cold dry rocks as she groped her glasses, eventually, she found them and lifted them off her pile of clothes to put them on. The heat haze and steam around the hot spring came into sharper focus once her one good eye was being assisted, as did Leslie when she looked over at him. He was still facing away from her, which she appreciated she supposed. She hadn't really been thinking much about his presence around her, in truth, she'd become so used to him being at her heel like a sad dog. But even with that he'd stuck with her through everything they had been through up to that point, and he didn't seem like he planned to leave her yet. Not if he was planning further excursions.

"The town," She said with a certainty. "People will be there, there's enough houses that they'll think it's safe hiding out there."

The water in the hot spring sloshed and splashed as she stood up, ensuring that one hand held her hair to keep it out of the water. Once the noise of the initial disturbance and the roiling of the pool ceased the only noise was the steady dripping of water from her body.

Aracelis stood there for a moment and allowed the cold air to dance across her body, each step it took prickling up her skin. Then, she stepped out of the water and onto the smooth stones surrounding the hot spring. She crouched down and picked up her jumper, using it in the place of a towel to dab at the water across her body. Then she pulled her underwear and bra on, and as she did she realized there were probably some creeps who would take screenshots of her. Aracelis pulled a face and spat some bloody water out of her mouth and onto light grey rocks. Then she set about putting her skirt and turtleneck on, trying to avoid dwelling on all the bruises that covered her body as she did so.

Once her leather jacket was on she pulled her socks on and set to work sorting out her shoes.

"Okay, I'm done, you can go in." There was a pause as she considered something. Leslie hadn't killed anyone. He still needed his one to be able to go home. The thought gave her pause, but she pushed it down. That was his own fault and problem. He'd had chances.

"Also, if we find Molly, I want her."

Leslie glanced over to the side as she spat again, this time blood instead of hair. His eyes were lidded as if tired. Yes, he was tired. It was only normal after more than a week here -- and he was still normal. Maybe one of a rare breed remaining on this cold island. His mom once said that Hispanics aren't built for the cold because she hated winters, but here he was with Aracelis. He wasn't really sure if he bought into that or why he thought of it now.

He brought his closed fist up to his mouth as if thinking while Aracelis redressed and said he could take a turn.

Leslie had considered what he would do when the time came. He wasn't really comfortable getting fully disrobed, even if Aracelis turned away, even if they were alone. The camera winked down at them. There was something he couldn't get over with the idea that other people would see him naked. Possibly an impaired way to feel about it since people had seen him as accessories to murder, but it's the way he felt. He threw off his jacket and stripped his shirt off. Without much of a pause, he walked over to the edge of the hot spring and crouched down in a way that made him look like an animal about to drink.

Leslie heard what Aracelis said.

Molly.

Leslie took a big breath and saw his puffed out cheeks on the water's surface for just a few seconds before he dunked his entire head and the upper part of his chest into the water. At first it burned. The cold of his skin against the warmth of the water stung, which gave way into heat, then comfort. It was quiet in the water and dark with his eyes screwed shut. The weight of the gold cross around his neck faded as the water floated the necklace.

He opened his mouth to scream or yell, but all he managed was a sort of gruff sound of annoyance. Leslie waited a few more moments, as long as he could until his lungs ached for air. He let the water cradle him.

Leslie pushed himself up suddenly and shook his body and head like a wet dog. He quickly scrambled back to his clothes put them back on.

"¿De veras? You're... sure about Molly? She knows you're out for her, so she'll be waiting. Just let someone else take her out. More than enough psychos out there."

"Me resbala," Aracelis said, her tone curt, "And I said if Leslie, this isn't like with Dani, I'm not saying we go looking for her."

She picked her glasses up and rubbed the lenses between an unsoiled part of her turtleneck, trying in vain to polish them. She'd become too used to her contact lenses, having been using them every day prior to her arrival on the island. Stupidly she had packed them away in her suitcase that had been in the luggage hold of the coach. Given what had happened that had either been dumped or was being used by one of the terrorists to store all the things they had stolen from them. Not that it mattered, but it did mean that all Aracelis had was her glasses, which she hated wearing.

Once she was finished with her attempt she held them up to the light and tutted when she could still see streaks across the glass, but there was nothing she could do about it, so she put them back on. Immediately the world around her returned to a sharp focus, like a TV going from standard to high definition. But all it did was mean she got to see the whites, greys and dull greens of the island in sharper focus.

"Are you ready to go?" She asked over her shoulder as she heard Leslie emerge from the hot spring and begin to pull his clothes back on.

"We don't want to run out of daylight."

Leslie slid his arms through the sleeves of his jacket and looked up. He then dropped his jaw slightly and wore a look of indignant incredulity.

"Yeah, I'm ready. I'm not the one wasting daylight. I'm not the one with prune fingers.

He readied his bag, putting everything back inside, and slipping the taser into his pocket.

"If, " he repeated back to her. "If that happens, I'm not gonna help."

((Leslie Romero continued in the dead include the living in their own great collective))

Aracelis just stood there eyes wide and mouth agape at Leslie's outburst. Her mouth opened and closed like a fish gasping for her as she tried to put together a response before she gave up and her mouth settled into a hard line.

Asshole. Leslie was all up in his feelings because a girl had actually talked to him and that meant he didn't want to help.

"Cool, great." She huffed, as he walked past, her face turning into the sort of pout you'd expect from a child who'd been told they couldn't have any ice cream. "I won't need your help anyway." She called after him. "It's only Molly, I can cave her head in by myself!"

Then, realising, he wasn't responding and had instead started descending the steps, Aracelis quickly picked up her things and started to head after him with fast steps.

((Aracelis Fuentes continued elsewhere...))