((Beatrice Briggs continued from Permian))
She had been so very, very tempted to head right back up to the hot springs, to conduct a second wake far too soon after the first had concluded.
Tempted enough, in fact, that she had started to make her way back towards the mountain trail, after she had left the woods again. She knew the route now, after all. She could make it on her own, even though the prospect of doing so without a lookout was an unsettling one. And the sooner she could reach some kind of closure, both for Jessica and for the anchor in her backpack dragging her down, letting them both rest in their sanctuary on the side of the mountain, the better.
It was a matter of practicality that stopped her, in the end. A trek up and down the mountain would take its toll on the hardiest of folks at the very best of times, even with a rest stop coming up and coming down again. And Beatrice had been put through a funeral, a shootout, and the death of her companion on top of all that as well. The moment she put her foot down on the very gentlest of inclines, her ankle roared in pain and fury. Just like that, as though it had flipped a lever, all of the exhaustion that had built up in her body and nestled in her bones rose to prominence once again.
There was no getting around it. She knew well enough from a history of playing sports that pushing herself at a time like this would only lead to disaster. She would need to build her energy back up before making the pilgrimage again. If only the hot spring had been located closer to the ground; then she could have easily soothed her exhaustion and gotten herself prepared once more. But then, of course, if she could reach the spring so easily, she wouldn’t need to use it to recharge herself anyway.
Her dad liked to say a lot, that ‘nothing in life worth getting was easy’. He had been proven right far too many times for Beatrice to count.
It wasn’t all bad news. She wasn’t too far from a ‘Campground’, according to her map. That sounded as though it would be somewhere good to rest up for a while, somewhere with shelter and protection from the elements. So that, instead, became her new goal.
Things on this island, of course, were always too good to be true. The grounds had been littered with little more than a cluster of sad, collapsed tents, and a log cabin that was slowly being reclaimed by the elements. The inside, somehow, had been even worse; near everything overturned, slashes carved out of anything within sight. No blood, thankfully, but there had been a strange, sticky, light blue puddle instead.
She had been reminded of the cabin back at the trapping camp, in many ways. Similarly dilapidated. Similar sleeping situation, tucked into one corner, her meagre belongings and bag serving as mattress, pillow, and blanket. Same relief upon waking up that she had found somewhere relatively warm, relatively safe, somewhere where she didn’t rise with dead leaves and twigs tangling in her hair.
It was short-lived relief, as so many things out here ended up being. The squeal of the announcement saw put to that. And it wasn’t just the horrific sound of it firing up, this time. She knew what she would hear, whose name would grace her ears, this time around. It had been saved til the very last, as if to taunt her, knowing she wouldn’t block out her hearing any longer, forcing her to sit through the whole thing, right to the very end.
She sniffed again, screwing her eyes shut tight. Burned the name of ‘Salem Fox’ into her mind indelibly. Took several slow, deep breaths, fingers rattling against the side of the rifle methodically and repeatedly.
Jessica was still with her, safe by her side, deep in her pocket. Jessica was still slumbering in the forest, resting against a tree, snowfall and flora surrounding her forever. Jessica would find her final resting place on top of the mountain, alongside Rebekah, their spirits mixing with the breeze, and letting them gaze out towards the horizon for eternity.
And Beatrice would make certain of it. Because Beatrice had lived through another dawn.
She opened her eyes, and gave her head a little shake. Then she stepped across the cabin, taking great pains to avoid stepping in the mysterious, suspicious puddle in the centre, and peered out of the window, gazing out across the campgrounds to see what the morning brought with it.
The World Has Been Changed (Do You Want To Save It?)
Day 10, morning - Private while folks file in!
The World Has Been Changed (Do You Want To Save It?)
"bryony and alba would definitely join the terrorists quote me on this put this quote in signatures put it in history books" - Cicada Days, 2017
-
Dr Adjective
- Posts: 425
- Joined: Mon Jul 06, 2020 8:25 pm
- Location: UK
Before long, morning brought another young monster.
[Evie McKown’s road was not so long and hard.]
Along the way, carefully avoiding the unwelcoming shoreline, Evie took time to think. Claire hadn’t shown up. Hadn’t even seen fit to message back. With four kills under her belt, Evie could imagine why the other girl might not want to see her, nor risk upsetting a potentially unstable killer by blowing her off. Making an executive decision, Evie checked the radio at her hip was turned off, and shoved it into the depths of her pack.
So that was one contact scratched off the list. Teddie hadn’t been high on the list, but now he’d joined Lara, Mitch, and Steve in the grave. So besides Kelsey, who was left that Evie could even consider a friend?
Evie was still wracking her brain for an answer when she reached the campground.
No more time for thinking: as likely as not, it was inhabited by dangerous creatures who wouldn’t take kindly to a new predator trespassing on their den. So out came the gaudy golden Desert Eagle, and Evie focused her eyes to pick up any movement in the distance as she started circling around the cabin.
Somebody was at the window. Evie wasn’t sure who yet. But she had a sinking feeling she’d already been spotted.
So… she changed approach, and approached head-on. Worst case scenario? At least they’d have less time to prepare to defend themselves.
[Evie McKown’s road was not so long and hard.]
Along the way, carefully avoiding the unwelcoming shoreline, Evie took time to think. Claire hadn’t shown up. Hadn’t even seen fit to message back. With four kills under her belt, Evie could imagine why the other girl might not want to see her, nor risk upsetting a potentially unstable killer by blowing her off. Making an executive decision, Evie checked the radio at her hip was turned off, and shoved it into the depths of her pack.
So that was one contact scratched off the list. Teddie hadn’t been high on the list, but now he’d joined Lara, Mitch, and Steve in the grave. So besides Kelsey, who was left that Evie could even consider a friend?
Evie was still wracking her brain for an answer when she reached the campground.
No more time for thinking: as likely as not, it was inhabited by dangerous creatures who wouldn’t take kindly to a new predator trespassing on their den. So out came the gaudy golden Desert Eagle, and Evie focused her eyes to pick up any movement in the distance as she started circling around the cabin.
Somebody was at the window. Evie wasn’t sure who yet. But she had a sinking feeling she’d already been spotted.
So… she changed approach, and approached head-on. Worst case scenario? At least they’d have less time to prepare to defend themselves.
Evie wasn't the only monster nearby. The distinctive whine of an engine cut through the morning, and before long, plumes of snow would erupt against the dark of the tree line.
((Juanita Reid continued from We're Going on a Bear Hunt))
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
The announcements had already ended, but they were still echoing in Juanita's mind. She'd pulled over to listen to them, and then set off again as soon as they'd ended. The snowmobile bucked against her bad leg, and the wind bit right through the bandages and scabs on her severed ear, sending shockwaves of freezing pain down the side of her face. She didn't know where she was going. She just wanted to not be anywhere right now, and as long as she was driving, she wasn't here or there, but in some liminal space where nothing could touch her.
Teddie was dead. She should have felt something about that. He'd died of sepsis from untreated wounds, and she distinctly remembered inflicting some. She should have felt something about that, too. Guilt. Shame. Any of the dark feelings a good person would feel if they thought, in any small way, that they'd contributed to the death of someone they used to care about.
She certainly shouldn't have felt annoyance that they hadn't given her the credit. Or jealous that for the tenth day in a row, someone who wasn't her was getting fresh food and a shiny new weapon, while she was hauling around an inventory of low-quality Fallout gear.
Karin Han was dead too, along with Crystal Henderson. Again, she should have felt something about that. Guilt that someone she loathed had died, and there'd never be any forgiveness there. Guilt that she'd yelled at Crystal and sent her off to die alone. That's what a good person would have felt. Not even good, just decent. And Juanita felt those things, a little. After she told herself to. Before that, she felt pride. Pride that she was the last member of Worship and Prayers left alive, and that the legion had dwindled down to almost nothing, and now everybody who hadn't listened to her and who'd given in to selfishness had been proven wrong.
She forced herself to feel lousy. To remember that these names in the announcements weren't just items being ticked off a list. They were people. People who'd screwed up and hurt her, but people all the same. People who'd been part of her life, in some way or another.
Like... geez, how many clubs were completely gone now? The thought was a sobering one, and it dredged up a lot of feelings. She imagined the club photos in the yearbook, with black spots welling up to cover the faces of the deceased. WAP was down to her, body improvement was just her... Was anybody from lacrosse still alive? Anybody from body improvement?
More than that, how many of the people she'd run into were even still alive? Jezzie Stark was out there somewhere. Shame Juanita hadn't recruited her for the legion. Iris was dead, Medea was dead, all of the legion were dead except Kaede. Aracelis and Leslie were still out there somewhere. Eden and Teddie were dead, Timothy too. That other kid who'd been there, Ellis... she didn't remember if she'd heard his name or not. Then Colm, Daniel, Fred, Elodie. So, what? Four, maybe five? Could bump it up as high as seven if the boys she'd almost run into at the sleeping quarters hadn't gone back in after it became a danger zone.
Pretty dismal statistics, no matter how you sliced them.
Juanita thought again about the boys in the hallway. She remembered the way they'd talked. They'd been coordinated, stealthy. Sharing what they found. They sounded like everything she'd wanted the legion to be. And, more importantly, they'd have turned her into Swiss cheese if they hadn't found something else to pique their interest. She'd had a lot of success going it alone, but there were those guys, and Aracelis and Leslie. Pairs who'd made it deep, and who'd overpower her easily.
She needed a teammate. Better yet, a partner.
Trust wouldn't be easy to build at this point in the game. But they'd passed the halfway point, what... two days ago? Three? And the deaths had only picked up pace since then. The numbers had to be dwindling. The finish line was in sight and that meant that people would be hungry for it. Willing to do what it took. The resolve and pie-in-the-sky "I won't kill anyone, ever!" attitudes would have been eroded by days of hunger and sleepless nights. There had to be someone out there like her. Someone who wanted to win, no matter what it took.
She sighted the campground up ahead, and gunned the throttle. It was as good a place as any to start her search.
((Juanita Reid continued from We're Going on a Bear Hunt))
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
The announcements had already ended, but they were still echoing in Juanita's mind. She'd pulled over to listen to them, and then set off again as soon as they'd ended. The snowmobile bucked against her bad leg, and the wind bit right through the bandages and scabs on her severed ear, sending shockwaves of freezing pain down the side of her face. She didn't know where she was going. She just wanted to not be anywhere right now, and as long as she was driving, she wasn't here or there, but in some liminal space where nothing could touch her.
Teddie was dead. She should have felt something about that. He'd died of sepsis from untreated wounds, and she distinctly remembered inflicting some. She should have felt something about that, too. Guilt. Shame. Any of the dark feelings a good person would feel if they thought, in any small way, that they'd contributed to the death of someone they used to care about.
She certainly shouldn't have felt annoyance that they hadn't given her the credit. Or jealous that for the tenth day in a row, someone who wasn't her was getting fresh food and a shiny new weapon, while she was hauling around an inventory of low-quality Fallout gear.
Karin Han was dead too, along with Crystal Henderson. Again, she should have felt something about that. Guilt that someone she loathed had died, and there'd never be any forgiveness there. Guilt that she'd yelled at Crystal and sent her off to die alone. That's what a good person would have felt. Not even good, just decent. And Juanita felt those things, a little. After she told herself to. Before that, she felt pride. Pride that she was the last member of Worship and Prayers left alive, and that the legion had dwindled down to almost nothing, and now everybody who hadn't listened to her and who'd given in to selfishness had been proven wrong.
She forced herself to feel lousy. To remember that these names in the announcements weren't just items being ticked off a list. They were people. People who'd screwed up and hurt her, but people all the same. People who'd been part of her life, in some way or another.
Like... geez, how many clubs were completely gone now? The thought was a sobering one, and it dredged up a lot of feelings. She imagined the club photos in the yearbook, with black spots welling up to cover the faces of the deceased. WAP was down to her, body improvement was just her... Was anybody from lacrosse still alive? Anybody from body improvement?
More than that, how many of the people she'd run into were even still alive? Jezzie Stark was out there somewhere. Shame Juanita hadn't recruited her for the legion. Iris was dead, Medea was dead, all of the legion were dead except Kaede. Aracelis and Leslie were still out there somewhere. Eden and Teddie were dead, Timothy too. That other kid who'd been there, Ellis... she didn't remember if she'd heard his name or not. Then Colm, Daniel, Fred, Elodie. So, what? Four, maybe five? Could bump it up as high as seven if the boys she'd almost run into at the sleeping quarters hadn't gone back in after it became a danger zone.
Pretty dismal statistics, no matter how you sliced them.
Juanita thought again about the boys in the hallway. She remembered the way they'd talked. They'd been coordinated, stealthy. Sharing what they found. They sounded like everything she'd wanted the legion to be. And, more importantly, they'd have turned her into Swiss cheese if they hadn't found something else to pique their interest. She'd had a lot of success going it alone, but there were those guys, and Aracelis and Leslie. Pairs who'd made it deep, and who'd overpower her easily.
She needed a teammate. Better yet, a partner.
Trust wouldn't be easy to build at this point in the game. But they'd passed the halfway point, what... two days ago? Three? And the deaths had only picked up pace since then. The numbers had to be dwindling. The finish line was in sight and that meant that people would be hungry for it. Willing to do what it took. The resolve and pie-in-the-sky "I won't kill anyone, ever!" attitudes would have been eroded by days of hunger and sleepless nights. There had to be someone out there like her. Someone who wanted to win, no matter what it took.
She sighted the campground up ahead, and gunned the throttle. It was as good a place as any to start her search.
V8 Characters:
Juanita Reid
Rebekah Hayes
Karin Han
EXTREME STEVE Dodds
Juanita Reid
Rebekah Hayes
Karin Han
EXTREME STEVE Dodds
For just a brief moment, Beatrice’s excitement got the better of her.
For she had indeed seen the monster, padding around her cabin, on the prowl for anything that moved. It had moved close enough for her to catch proper sight of it, although she hadn’t been able to get a good look at its face until it had started moving directly towards her. Even then, she couldn’t be certain her mind wasn’t playing tricks on her, a mirage thrown up by the bright morning light on lingering snow.
But her vision never wavered, and the image never changed. And she didn’t see a monster out there. She saw her friend.
She could feel joy blossoming up inside of her, as she hurried away from the window and towards the lodge’s door. It hadn’t really hit her until just now, but every single person she had met up to this point had practically been a stranger to her. Not to the extent of being a total unknown, of course, she had always made it a point to know all of her classmates’ names as a baseline. But they hadn’t run in the same circles, they hadn’t spent much time outside of class together willingly.
Evie was different. She was a known quantity, a familiar and welcome face, someone that Beatrice had actively been hoping to find, alongside the rest of her lacrosse girls. She knew that there would be fewer and fewer people to find with each passing day - it was the whole reason why it was so vital to get out there and find anyone in need as quick as she possibly could. Those friends, the people she wanted to see more than anyone, that number had shrunk dramatically by now. But Evie remained. And so did Beatrice.
“Evie!” Beatrice called out, flinging the door wide open, rifle hanging loosely by her side, clutched in just one hand.
“It’s me, it’s Beatrice! I’m still alive! And you’re-”
She faltered, coming to a stop just a couple of feet out the door. Her face slowly fell, the eager joy that had been radiating from her replaced with a pale mask of realisation. The first facer had been the bulky, heavy looking pistol in Evie’s hand. It meant little by itself. There was another firearm mirroring it, of course, clutched in a trembling fist, unused by its current owner.
The second, however, was the announcements. Only just floating back to the top of Beatrice’s mind. And even after having missed the first half or so of them, Evie had still been prolific enough for her name to have appeared twice, thrice, maybe even more.
“-You’re here.”
She could hear a loud, guttural roaring sound. She couldn’t tell whether it was from somewhere in the distance, or somewhere deep inside of herself.
For she had indeed seen the monster, padding around her cabin, on the prowl for anything that moved. It had moved close enough for her to catch proper sight of it, although she hadn’t been able to get a good look at its face until it had started moving directly towards her. Even then, she couldn’t be certain her mind wasn’t playing tricks on her, a mirage thrown up by the bright morning light on lingering snow.
But her vision never wavered, and the image never changed. And she didn’t see a monster out there. She saw her friend.
She could feel joy blossoming up inside of her, as she hurried away from the window and towards the lodge’s door. It hadn’t really hit her until just now, but every single person she had met up to this point had practically been a stranger to her. Not to the extent of being a total unknown, of course, she had always made it a point to know all of her classmates’ names as a baseline. But they hadn’t run in the same circles, they hadn’t spent much time outside of class together willingly.
Evie was different. She was a known quantity, a familiar and welcome face, someone that Beatrice had actively been hoping to find, alongside the rest of her lacrosse girls. She knew that there would be fewer and fewer people to find with each passing day - it was the whole reason why it was so vital to get out there and find anyone in need as quick as she possibly could. Those friends, the people she wanted to see more than anyone, that number had shrunk dramatically by now. But Evie remained. And so did Beatrice.
“Evie!” Beatrice called out, flinging the door wide open, rifle hanging loosely by her side, clutched in just one hand.
“It’s me, it’s Beatrice! I’m still alive! And you’re-”
She faltered, coming to a stop just a couple of feet out the door. Her face slowly fell, the eager joy that had been radiating from her replaced with a pale mask of realisation. The first facer had been the bulky, heavy looking pistol in Evie’s hand. It meant little by itself. There was another firearm mirroring it, of course, clutched in a trembling fist, unused by its current owner.
The second, however, was the announcements. Only just floating back to the top of Beatrice’s mind. And even after having missed the first half or so of them, Evie had still been prolific enough for her name to have appeared twice, thrice, maybe even more.
“-You’re here.”
She could hear a loud, guttural roaring sound. She couldn’t tell whether it was from somewhere in the distance, or somewhere deep inside of herself.
"bryony and alba would definitely join the terrorists quote me on this put this quote in signatures put it in history books" - Cicada Days, 2017
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Dr Adjective
- Posts: 425
- Joined: Mon Jul 06, 2020 8:25 pm
- Location: UK
A feeling bloomed in Evie’s chest, one she hadn’t sincerely expected to feel again. Yes, she’d been hoping to find Kelsey, and yes seeing her again would surely trigger the heady mixture of joy, relief, excitement, and myriad other nameless emotions currently making her heart swell, but… Evie had had over a week of disappointment to temper her expectations, and she certainly hadn’t expected the lightness of spirit to be caused by Beatrice Briggs.
In truth, she hadn’t given Beatrice much thought at all. Only recently had it even occurred to the four-time killer that her friend hadn’t died yet, and it had come as a surprise.
Even so, Evie felt elated to see her, to hear her voice excitedly call out in equal joy. Just for a moment. Would that she could bottle that feeling and keep a ration of it, because it was in incredibly short supply of late.
Of course, reality soon reasserted itself. While Beatrice was still happily announcing herself, Evie was eyeing the rifle in the other girl’s hand with a hybrid of caution and avarice. Just like Fitz, only with much more of a chance to survive trying to take it this time around. If she wanted to do that. Did she want to do that?
Killing out of mercy, killing in self-defence, killing a friend out of mercy, killing in cold blood. Did that progression lead to killing a friend in cold blood? Evie had often fought back the foolish notion that she was meant to succeed. And just as often the notion came back with fresh evidence of her intentionally plotted journey to the endgame. Her luck, her skills, her steady progression, it was all there. So, the question remained: was she really prepared to kill Beatrice Briggs over a rifle? Willing? Able?
Judging by the way her face and her voice sank too, it seemed like Beatrice thought so. Because she’d just realised she was looking at Evie the Killer, the same way that Dani had, that Iris and DeMarcus had.
Luckily, a third party arrived to distract from the tension. Another sensation arrived that Evie hadn’t expected to encounter again so soon: the sound of an internal combustion engine. At first she took it for a motorcycle. An instinct that Evie didn’t have the time to question took charge, and even as she turned to scan the horizon for its source, she found herself closing the distance to get closer to Beatrice.
In that moment, a part of Evie that hadn’t been killed yet decided that friends were safer in numbers, and Beatrice was a friend. Beatrice was to be protected, and would protect her in turn.
In truth, she hadn’t given Beatrice much thought at all. Only recently had it even occurred to the four-time killer that her friend hadn’t died yet, and it had come as a surprise.
Even so, Evie felt elated to see her, to hear her voice excitedly call out in equal joy. Just for a moment. Would that she could bottle that feeling and keep a ration of it, because it was in incredibly short supply of late.
Of course, reality soon reasserted itself. While Beatrice was still happily announcing herself, Evie was eyeing the rifle in the other girl’s hand with a hybrid of caution and avarice. Just like Fitz, only with much more of a chance to survive trying to take it this time around. If she wanted to do that. Did she want to do that?
Killing out of mercy, killing in self-defence, killing a friend out of mercy, killing in cold blood. Did that progression lead to killing a friend in cold blood? Evie had often fought back the foolish notion that she was meant to succeed. And just as often the notion came back with fresh evidence of her intentionally plotted journey to the endgame. Her luck, her skills, her steady progression, it was all there. So, the question remained: was she really prepared to kill Beatrice Briggs over a rifle? Willing? Able?
Judging by the way her face and her voice sank too, it seemed like Beatrice thought so. Because she’d just realised she was looking at Evie the Killer, the same way that Dani had, that Iris and DeMarcus had.
Luckily, a third party arrived to distract from the tension. Another sensation arrived that Evie hadn’t expected to encounter again so soon: the sound of an internal combustion engine. At first she took it for a motorcycle. An instinct that Evie didn’t have the time to question took charge, and even as she turned to scan the horizon for its source, she found herself closing the distance to get closer to Beatrice.
In that moment, a part of Evie that hadn’t been killed yet decided that friends were safer in numbers, and Beatrice was a friend. Beatrice was to be protected, and would protect her in turn.
Juanita cut the throttle a little ways away from the two female figures. The snowmobile coasted for a second or two before settling uneasily onto the surface of the frozen lake about fifty yards out from the cabin. She turned the engine off, but kept one hand on the key, just in case. She might need to make a quick getaway.
She squinted at the two of them, taking in the scene at a glance. Beatrice was standing a few feet out from the cabin, armed with a rifle of some kind. And that was... yeah, Evie McKown. Looked like she was holding a gun of her own. Beatrice's name hadn't come up on the announcements; Evie's had shown up four times. Evie was edging to one side, putting herself between Juanita and Beatrice. Protecting her. So, what was this, then? Some kind of partnership, with Bea as the muscle and Evie as the triggerman?
"Uh... Hey!" she called out, cupping her mittened hand to her cheek to shout across the distance.
"It's, um... Juanita. From lacrosse."
She hesitated. "I, uh... Don't shoot, okay? I come in peace!"
She squinted at the two of them, taking in the scene at a glance. Beatrice was standing a few feet out from the cabin, armed with a rifle of some kind. And that was... yeah, Evie McKown. Looked like she was holding a gun of her own. Beatrice's name hadn't come up on the announcements; Evie's had shown up four times. Evie was edging to one side, putting herself between Juanita and Beatrice. Protecting her. So, what was this, then? Some kind of partnership, with Bea as the muscle and Evie as the triggerman?
"Uh... Hey!" she called out, cupping her mittened hand to her cheek to shout across the distance.
"It's, um... Juanita. From lacrosse."
She hesitated. "I, uh... Don't shoot, okay? I come in peace!"
V8 Characters:
Juanita Reid
Rebekah Hayes
Karin Han
EXTREME STEVE Dodds
Juanita Reid
Rebekah Hayes
Karin Han
EXTREME STEVE Dodds
Oh. So it had been coming from outside of herself, from somewhere off beyond the rolling slopes that led down here. And ‘it’ happened to be, well. A snowmobile, of all things. Gliding to a halt on the edge of the frozen lake (was that safe? Was the ice really strong enough to support something so heavy and bulky?).
Certainly not anything she had been expecting to see any time soon. It served to break up the tension, for a short while at least. But all that did, in the end, was lull her into a false sense of hope.
Because once again, now that her mind and the scene in front of her had been reset, she saw a friend in front of her, dismounting from the snowmobile. She saw an old lacrosse teammate, a fellow lover of keeping fit, she saw Juanita for who she had always been at school, and another smile broke out onto her face. Her boots took her forwards, a step out into the cold and away from the safety of the doorframe.
Then reality struck once more. She remembered, out of the blue, what the announcements had told her. That she was facing someone else whose journey to this point had involved them taking another’s life. She felt her body freeze. Her hand was stuck to the rifle, held rigid at her side; maybe that was a good thing. Maybe she didn’t want to find out what would happen if she made any sudden movements with it. Her index finger rattled rapidly against the stock, a sorry replacement for her usual three-finger-tap-tap-tap, but enough to stop herself from shutting down entirely.
Would this be the state of every encounter from here on out? With everyone present having killed someone at some point. It was a horrific state of affairs, one that Beatrice dearly hoped wouldn’t be true, and one she knew grew more and more likely with every passing moment.
Juanita claimed she was here with nothing but peaceful intentions. It was hard to believe, taking written evidence on its own. If you saw, on the news, that somebody had been stabbed to death the other day, you wouldn’t invite their attacker inside for a cup of sugar if you saw them on the street, would you? But if your only intention was to kill, if that was your only drive and your only goal in any interaction, would you announce your presence as loud as possible by motoring in over the lake? Would you look at a girl, frozen in place and an easy target, and do nothing to take advantage of that opportunity?
Jessica had killed. Jessica had killed someone right in front of Beatrice. And Jessica had been loyal, she had been kind, she had been brave.
So when Evie stepped towards her, Beatrice flinched, but that was it. She didn’t raise the rifle. There was no over-eager trigger finger to shape tension into tragedy. She simply tilted her head to look at the girl who had been her friend. And while she didn’t smile at her, she didn’t do anything else, either.
“I’m not… I’m not going to shoot!” she called back, still not quite daring to raise her free hand to her mouth yet, still following her personal ‘no sudden movements’ rule. “My… My finger’s off the trigger! I’m not…”
She breathed in sharply through her nose. She had always spoken with the intent of making every single one of her words as clear and simple as possible, even when people had made fun of her for it. Now, it was as vital as any other survival strategy.
“I’m not going to shoot… unless somebody attacks me first. Alright?”
Her eyes flashed that same, ferocious steel that had briefly crossed them at the hot springs. But then, a blink later, they were gone, and sadness filled them instead.
“I’ve… already had enough of that happen. For a day. For a lifetime.”
Certainly not anything she had been expecting to see any time soon. It served to break up the tension, for a short while at least. But all that did, in the end, was lull her into a false sense of hope.
Because once again, now that her mind and the scene in front of her had been reset, she saw a friend in front of her, dismounting from the snowmobile. She saw an old lacrosse teammate, a fellow lover of keeping fit, she saw Juanita for who she had always been at school, and another smile broke out onto her face. Her boots took her forwards, a step out into the cold and away from the safety of the doorframe.
Then reality struck once more. She remembered, out of the blue, what the announcements had told her. That she was facing someone else whose journey to this point had involved them taking another’s life. She felt her body freeze. Her hand was stuck to the rifle, held rigid at her side; maybe that was a good thing. Maybe she didn’t want to find out what would happen if she made any sudden movements with it. Her index finger rattled rapidly against the stock, a sorry replacement for her usual three-finger-tap-tap-tap, but enough to stop herself from shutting down entirely.
Would this be the state of every encounter from here on out? With everyone present having killed someone at some point. It was a horrific state of affairs, one that Beatrice dearly hoped wouldn’t be true, and one she knew grew more and more likely with every passing moment.
Juanita claimed she was here with nothing but peaceful intentions. It was hard to believe, taking written evidence on its own. If you saw, on the news, that somebody had been stabbed to death the other day, you wouldn’t invite their attacker inside for a cup of sugar if you saw them on the street, would you? But if your only intention was to kill, if that was your only drive and your only goal in any interaction, would you announce your presence as loud as possible by motoring in over the lake? Would you look at a girl, frozen in place and an easy target, and do nothing to take advantage of that opportunity?
Jessica had killed. Jessica had killed someone right in front of Beatrice. And Jessica had been loyal, she had been kind, she had been brave.
So when Evie stepped towards her, Beatrice flinched, but that was it. She didn’t raise the rifle. There was no over-eager trigger finger to shape tension into tragedy. She simply tilted her head to look at the girl who had been her friend. And while she didn’t smile at her, she didn’t do anything else, either.
“I’m not… I’m not going to shoot!” she called back, still not quite daring to raise her free hand to her mouth yet, still following her personal ‘no sudden movements’ rule. “My… My finger’s off the trigger! I’m not…”
She breathed in sharply through her nose. She had always spoken with the intent of making every single one of her words as clear and simple as possible, even when people had made fun of her for it. Now, it was as vital as any other survival strategy.
“I’m not going to shoot… unless somebody attacks me first. Alright?”
Her eyes flashed that same, ferocious steel that had briefly crossed them at the hot springs. But then, a blink later, they were gone, and sadness filled them instead.
“I’ve… already had enough of that happen. For a day. For a lifetime.”
"bryony and alba would definitely join the terrorists quote me on this put this quote in signatures put it in history books" - Cicada Days, 2017
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Dr Adjective
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Oh, so it was a snowmobile. For a brief moment, Evie recalled that she’d long wanted to ride on one, but her family had always preferred warm summer holidays.
Juanita disembarked, intentions not to shoot were shared. Coming from someone Evie knew to have killed about as many people as herself, the promise didn’t offer a lot of comfort. They were deep into the endgame now, nobody had gotten this far still singing kumbayah. Come to think of it, why was she assuming she’d be any safer with Beatrice and her rifle?
Well. At least up close, the big girl would struggle to bring it to bear on Evie.
Turning just so, enough to keep her wary eyes on both girls, Evie raised her gun in both hands. Not all the way up, not yet. Slow and deliberate, meant to warn rather than spook.
“I might, Juanita from Lacrosse; what do you want?!”
She didn’t like to admit it, but getting to throw her proverbial weight around like this? Wielding a gun, and her reputation for using it? Evie found it more than a little bit intoxicating.
Juanita disembarked, intentions not to shoot were shared. Coming from someone Evie knew to have killed about as many people as herself, the promise didn’t offer a lot of comfort. They were deep into the endgame now, nobody had gotten this far still singing kumbayah. Come to think of it, why was she assuming she’d be any safer with Beatrice and her rifle?
Well. At least up close, the big girl would struggle to bring it to bear on Evie.
Turning just so, enough to keep her wary eyes on both girls, Evie raised her gun in both hands. Not all the way up, not yet. Slow and deliberate, meant to warn rather than spook.
“I might, Juanita from Lacrosse; what do you want?!”
She didn’t like to admit it, but getting to throw her proverbial weight around like this? Wielding a gun, and her reputation for using it? Evie found it more than a little bit intoxicating.
Juanita's heart thudded. She looked at Evie, feeling the lightning crackling in her veins. Adrenaline, white-hot, goading her to respond to the challenge. The corner of her lip twitched, curling up just a bit, trying to form a snarl. She forced her mouth back into its regular shape and took a shaky breath.
Okay. Okay. Take stock. The guns weren't pointed at her, not yet, but it wouldn't take much more than a flick of Evie's wrists to put her in the crosshairs. The key was still clenched in her hand. She wouldn't be able to outrun a bullet, but right now the snowmobile shielded most of her body, so unless Evie pulled off a headshot - not impossible, could be that she was a crack shot or had played an awful lot of zombie games - she might be able to make a break for it.
Yeesh. It'd been a stupid decision to approach over the lake. There was nothing in the way, no cover. Yet another tactical failure from Juanita Reid, wannabe warlord.
Okay.
Juanita raised her other hand, fanning her fingers out to show that it was empty. She turned towards Beatrice, still keeping Evie in her periphery. Beatrice wanted to avoid conflict, so if these two were in cahoots she would be the one to appeal to. "I'm not looking for a fight either, Bea. I promise."
She turned back to Evie. "I just want a place to spend the night," she called out. "I got chased out my shelter by a group of boys with guns. It's... not safe to be out here alone. For any of us."
Okay. Okay. Take stock. The guns weren't pointed at her, not yet, but it wouldn't take much more than a flick of Evie's wrists to put her in the crosshairs. The key was still clenched in her hand. She wouldn't be able to outrun a bullet, but right now the snowmobile shielded most of her body, so unless Evie pulled off a headshot - not impossible, could be that she was a crack shot or had played an awful lot of zombie games - she might be able to make a break for it.
Yeesh. It'd been a stupid decision to approach over the lake. There was nothing in the way, no cover. Yet another tactical failure from Juanita Reid, wannabe warlord.
Okay.
Juanita raised her other hand, fanning her fingers out to show that it was empty. She turned towards Beatrice, still keeping Evie in her periphery. Beatrice wanted to avoid conflict, so if these two were in cahoots she would be the one to appeal to. "I'm not looking for a fight either, Bea. I promise."
She turned back to Evie. "I just want a place to spend the night," she called out. "I got chased out my shelter by a group of boys with guns. It's... not safe to be out here alone. For any of us."
V8 Characters:
Juanita Reid
Rebekah Hayes
Karin Han
EXTREME STEVE Dodds
Juanita Reid
Rebekah Hayes
Karin Han
EXTREME STEVE Dodds
“That’s not my-”
She cut her frustration loose, turning the words into a thin, wispy stream of dragon’s breath instead. It never stopped being irritating, this ever-present misnomer. It wasn’t her name, it wasn’t the name that she had been given, it wasn’t how she wanted to go by. Her duffel bag had the designation ‘S054’ printed on the side of it - a way to refer to her without truly referring to her, a means to other herself from her entire identity. Whenever somebody called her by a name that didn’t belong to her, whether it be a shortening or a nickname or anything at all, it gave her much the same feeling.
But it wasn’t the right moment to mention that, not in the slightest. She hadn’t truly understood, until this moment, what people meant when they gave weight and presence to a concept as nebulous and invisible as atmosphere. Evie had left her intentions worryingly vague, the gun, levelled in both hands, remaining ambiguous as to whether it would soon seek out a target. She really could feel the tension now, a solid, palpable mass pushing down on her. To ratchet it up by complaining about something that, from the outside looking in, was so small and petty, was asking for calamity.
Beatrice took a deep breath, thankful that Juanita, at least, seemed eager to work towards a no-strings attached pact of non-violence. She understood Evie’s apprehension, of course she did; had she not been friends with the both of them, maybe Beatrice would have been the one with her rifle held in both hands right now. But vocalising those inhibitions only served to put everybody here on edge; you told someone there was a chance they were about to be shot, they would do anything to prevent that happening ahead of time.
She was including herself in that equation.
“No, no it’s… it’s not,” she said, nodding, looking over at Juanita as she spoke. “Every moment out in the open is a threat. So let’s… lets not make things any more dangerous, okay?”
She flashed a look over towards Evie, almost subconsciously.
“I know you’ve both been… mentioned. More than once. And I know that doesn’t exactly inspire feelings of, um… trust in one another. But… okay, look, the announcements don’t tell the entire story. They tell the most baseline facts without any context behind them. I’m… I want to hear you both out. If you want to talk.”
Beatrice grit her teeth, and took another long, slow, shuddering breath. Her hand, wrapped close around her inherited rifle, squeezed down even tighter.
“A very dear friend died in front of my eyes, less than 24 hours ago. Please… please don’t let that happen again."
She didn’t know how many more funerals she could bear the weight of.
She cut her frustration loose, turning the words into a thin, wispy stream of dragon’s breath instead. It never stopped being irritating, this ever-present misnomer. It wasn’t her name, it wasn’t the name that she had been given, it wasn’t how she wanted to go by. Her duffel bag had the designation ‘S054’ printed on the side of it - a way to refer to her without truly referring to her, a means to other herself from her entire identity. Whenever somebody called her by a name that didn’t belong to her, whether it be a shortening or a nickname or anything at all, it gave her much the same feeling.
But it wasn’t the right moment to mention that, not in the slightest. She hadn’t truly understood, until this moment, what people meant when they gave weight and presence to a concept as nebulous and invisible as atmosphere. Evie had left her intentions worryingly vague, the gun, levelled in both hands, remaining ambiguous as to whether it would soon seek out a target. She really could feel the tension now, a solid, palpable mass pushing down on her. To ratchet it up by complaining about something that, from the outside looking in, was so small and petty, was asking for calamity.
Beatrice took a deep breath, thankful that Juanita, at least, seemed eager to work towards a no-strings attached pact of non-violence. She understood Evie’s apprehension, of course she did; had she not been friends with the both of them, maybe Beatrice would have been the one with her rifle held in both hands right now. But vocalising those inhibitions only served to put everybody here on edge; you told someone there was a chance they were about to be shot, they would do anything to prevent that happening ahead of time.
She was including herself in that equation.
“No, no it’s… it’s not,” she said, nodding, looking over at Juanita as she spoke. “Every moment out in the open is a threat. So let’s… lets not make things any more dangerous, okay?”
She flashed a look over towards Evie, almost subconsciously.
“I know you’ve both been… mentioned. More than once. And I know that doesn’t exactly inspire feelings of, um… trust in one another. But… okay, look, the announcements don’t tell the entire story. They tell the most baseline facts without any context behind them. I’m… I want to hear you both out. If you want to talk.”
Beatrice grit her teeth, and took another long, slow, shuddering breath. Her hand, wrapped close around her inherited rifle, squeezed down even tighter.
“A very dear friend died in front of my eyes, less than 24 hours ago. Please… please don’t let that happen again."
She didn’t know how many more funerals she could bear the weight of.
"bryony and alba would definitely join the terrorists quote me on this put this quote in signatures put it in history books" - Cicada Days, 2017
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Dr Adjective
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- Joined: Mon Jul 06, 2020 8:25 pm
- Location: UK
Evidently, Juanita didn't know Beatrice all that well. Not enough to know she hated having her name shortened like that, at least. Evidently she was also vulnerable. Some small kernel of instinct still told Evie that the proper response was to be kind here, to share what she had, to make nice and nurture. The girl wasn't entirely sure how to feel about that impulse - glad it wasn't totally drowned out? Sad that she'd have to ignore it if she intended to live?
Beatrice, however, was all too happy to make nice... with Juanita at least. She was also plenty happy to cast an unspoken stray Evie's way. Then hastened to soften the implication, clearly aware she'd done it. But she was inviting the two killers to explain themselves, a gesture nobody else had extended Evie's way since, well... since Lara, when Evie herself hadn't wanted to talk about it. Back when she'd come to the conclusion that it would be the last friendly conversation she had left, and she hadn't wanted to expend it talking about shooting Chloé Delacroix dead.
But now Beatrice wanted to hear Evie's side, much unlike the late whoever-that-was back in the Graveyard. Judgemental bitch hadn't lasted long, and Evie the Killer hadn't even needed to prove her right to make it happen.
"Yeah. Okay then."
Evie lowered her aim. Relaxed her left arm. She didn't put the gun away yet, didn't relax her wary stance yet, but it was a gesture. A second chance at justifying herself was too appealing to pass up, not to mention a genuinely friendly face to talk with, for however long that might last. Should she not just shoot Beatrice now, take her gun, turn it on Juanita as well? Yeah. She probably should, if she wanted to live. But in that moment, the desire to be seen, no, to be seen as Evie McKown and not Evie the Killer, that desire outweighed the desire to hasten the end of the so-called game.
"You go first Juanita, let's hear your war story."
Beatrice, however, was all too happy to make nice... with Juanita at least. She was also plenty happy to cast an unspoken stray Evie's way. Then hastened to soften the implication, clearly aware she'd done it. But she was inviting the two killers to explain themselves, a gesture nobody else had extended Evie's way since, well... since Lara, when Evie herself hadn't wanted to talk about it. Back when she'd come to the conclusion that it would be the last friendly conversation she had left, and she hadn't wanted to expend it talking about shooting Chloé Delacroix dead.
But now Beatrice wanted to hear Evie's side, much unlike the late whoever-that-was back in the Graveyard. Judgemental bitch hadn't lasted long, and Evie the Killer hadn't even needed to prove her right to make it happen.
"Yeah. Okay then."
Evie lowered her aim. Relaxed her left arm. She didn't put the gun away yet, didn't relax her wary stance yet, but it was a gesture. A second chance at justifying herself was too appealing to pass up, not to mention a genuinely friendly face to talk with, for however long that might last. Should she not just shoot Beatrice now, take her gun, turn it on Juanita as well? Yeah. She probably should, if she wanted to live. But in that moment, the desire to be seen, no, to be seen as Evie McKown and not Evie the Killer, that desire outweighed the desire to hasten the end of the so-called game.
"You go first Juanita, let's hear your war story."
"Yeah... all right. Just let me get a bit closer, I don't wanna have to shout the whole thing."
Juanita fired up the snowmobile and drove it forward a ways, getting her ride off the ice and setting down closer to the other girls. She left the snowmobile throttled down but still idling - a waste of gas, and counterproductive to the I-don't-wanna-shout-everything project, but also her best and only exit strategy. It was a shame that her shotgun was slung in a bag across her back, having it in hand would be a pretty solid way to deter the other two from getting itchy trigger fingers. But there was no way to draw the thing without broadcasting the movement like a Super Bowl ad and giving them all the time in the world to unload on her.
Juanita looked over at Beatrice. She could see the apprehension in the bigger girl's body clearly now, the death grip she had on her rifle. Beatrice said she'd lost someone yesterday. There'd been a lot of names, no way to know which specific one she was referring to. Imagine that. Any other time, the death of one of their classmates would be earth-shattering. Everyone would know the name of the kid who had died. There'd be announcements, assemblies, spaces to mourn, grief counselling, memorials. One loss would be a big, big deal. But out here, Beatrice's friend was just one droplet in a whole river of loss. One of nearly a dozen kids to die yesterday. One of a hundred-odd kids who'd died this week.
Another thought stuck an ice-cold knife in Juanita's guts and twisted it: the abrupt realization that there was nobody else left who'd care about her if she died. Everybody else in Worship group and lacrosse and body improvement, everybody in the legion, almost everybody she'd run into and certainly anybody who'd hear her name on the announcements and go, "That was my friend", they were all gone. All she had left was the occasional passing nod with Evie and whatever threadbare team connection she had with Beatrice. Juanita hadn't even known her well enough to remember how much she hated being called Bea.
"All right... my story."
She took a deep breath, and exhaled a few curlicues of vapor. It'd be easy to make something up, to paint herself as a hapless pawn of fate. Harder to make anybody buy it, though. Juanita had never been a good liar, and being essentially at gunpoint wasn't gonna improve that skill in a hurry. Better to just say it all plainly. Best case, she might get some allies. Worst case, they'd tell her to get lost and she'd blitz out of here and possibly add some new gunshot wounds to her ever-expanding injury collection.
"Well, to start off with... I was with a group. A team, I guess you could call it. Me, Ash Graves, Jack Anderson..." She caught herself just short of adding Dani Bird's name. According to the announcements, Evie had been the one who'd gunned her down, and she didn't want to give the other girl any reason to raise the gun. "Our whole deal was that we were gonna be the last people standing. If people wanted to join up we'd let them, but if they didn't... Well, we'd fight them."
Juanita grimaced, rubbing at her pant leg. "I just... Well, you both know about me. I woke up at the top of the bell tower, and I had to climb down... I was freaked out and in pain, I couldn't even stand up... And I just... panicked, you know? I didn't how was I gonna survive out here. I knew I was gonna be a liability, and I thought if I could team up, I'd live longer."
"We lost a lot of fights at the start." She displayed the remnants of her ear. The cold had numbed most of the feeling out of the ragged, but it still hurt to touch. "Eden was part of a big group with Teddie Boyd and some others. She took my ear off, but it was nearly a lot worse. And I... well, I just... stabbed her.
"John Davis tried to kill me after he found out about Eden. He gave me this." She turned, so that the others could see the red-splotched bandage on her jawline. "It took three of us to fight him. Without the group, they'd both have killed me. John and Eden."
The justification felt threadbare, even though the scars attested to its truthfulness. She continued. "After that... everything fell apart. The group got too big, people got greedy, and a fight broke out. A lot of people got shot. Jack, Donovan, Crystal. Me, a little bit. Those of us who survived went our separate ways. All of them are dead now, except me and Kaede Tsurumi. Ever since then, I've just been wandering. Trying to find someone else to band together with. I tried to reach out to Daniel Ozanne, but he... wanted out. Couldn't bring himself to do it alone. Fred Hobbes showed up, and I just kinda... freaked. He used to pick on me, him and his gang, and I thought he had people with him, and I... I protected myself."
She shuffled awkwardly on the seat. She wasn't lying. She'd thought that Fred was a threat. But she hadn't really tried, had she? Hadn't given him a chance. "And Elodie... Elodie was a mistake."
"Mistake" was an overly charitable description, but there was nothing accurate that she could bring herself to say. She hadn't had a valid reason for killing Elodie, beyond the paltry excuse they all wore around their necks. Greed, envy, fear of the cold. Nothing anybody would want in an ally. Nothing she wanted to admit that she was willing to kill over.
"Look, I... I know that there's no reason to trust me out here. But I really don't want to fight either of you. And I don't want to go it alone."
She looked at Evie, and the gun she still held ready to fire. "The way you feel about me? That's how I feel about you. That's how everybody is gonna feel about both of us. Neither of us is gonna be able to trust that we can team up with someone who isn't gonna want to gank us in the night because of what they've heard on the announcements."
"But!" Juanita held up a finger demonstratively. "How I see it is, that makes us each other's best options. We can trust each other, because we know nobody else will. And I've seen some of what's out there. I know that there's people I can't beat, unless I have allies with good weapons. If you look at it that way, there's no reason for me to attack either of you. So if you can't trust me, you can at least trust that I'll try to survive, and the best way for me to survive the next few day is with both of you alive and on my side. So... can we just, like... agree not to kill each other right now and get out of the cold?"
((Juanita Reid continued elsewhere))
Juanita fired up the snowmobile and drove it forward a ways, getting her ride off the ice and setting down closer to the other girls. She left the snowmobile throttled down but still idling - a waste of gas, and counterproductive to the I-don't-wanna-shout-everything project, but also her best and only exit strategy. It was a shame that her shotgun was slung in a bag across her back, having it in hand would be a pretty solid way to deter the other two from getting itchy trigger fingers. But there was no way to draw the thing without broadcasting the movement like a Super Bowl ad and giving them all the time in the world to unload on her.
Juanita looked over at Beatrice. She could see the apprehension in the bigger girl's body clearly now, the death grip she had on her rifle. Beatrice said she'd lost someone yesterday. There'd been a lot of names, no way to know which specific one she was referring to. Imagine that. Any other time, the death of one of their classmates would be earth-shattering. Everyone would know the name of the kid who had died. There'd be announcements, assemblies, spaces to mourn, grief counselling, memorials. One loss would be a big, big deal. But out here, Beatrice's friend was just one droplet in a whole river of loss. One of nearly a dozen kids to die yesterday. One of a hundred-odd kids who'd died this week.
Another thought stuck an ice-cold knife in Juanita's guts and twisted it: the abrupt realization that there was nobody else left who'd care about her if she died. Everybody else in Worship group and lacrosse and body improvement, everybody in the legion, almost everybody she'd run into and certainly anybody who'd hear her name on the announcements and go, "That was my friend", they were all gone. All she had left was the occasional passing nod with Evie and whatever threadbare team connection she had with Beatrice. Juanita hadn't even known her well enough to remember how much she hated being called Bea.
"All right... my story."
She took a deep breath, and exhaled a few curlicues of vapor. It'd be easy to make something up, to paint herself as a hapless pawn of fate. Harder to make anybody buy it, though. Juanita had never been a good liar, and being essentially at gunpoint wasn't gonna improve that skill in a hurry. Better to just say it all plainly. Best case, she might get some allies. Worst case, they'd tell her to get lost and she'd blitz out of here and possibly add some new gunshot wounds to her ever-expanding injury collection.
"Well, to start off with... I was with a group. A team, I guess you could call it. Me, Ash Graves, Jack Anderson..." She caught herself just short of adding Dani Bird's name. According to the announcements, Evie had been the one who'd gunned her down, and she didn't want to give the other girl any reason to raise the gun. "Our whole deal was that we were gonna be the last people standing. If people wanted to join up we'd let them, but if they didn't... Well, we'd fight them."
Juanita grimaced, rubbing at her pant leg. "I just... Well, you both know about me. I woke up at the top of the bell tower, and I had to climb down... I was freaked out and in pain, I couldn't even stand up... And I just... panicked, you know? I didn't how was I gonna survive out here. I knew I was gonna be a liability, and I thought if I could team up, I'd live longer."
"We lost a lot of fights at the start." She displayed the remnants of her ear. The cold had numbed most of the feeling out of the ragged, but it still hurt to touch. "Eden was part of a big group with Teddie Boyd and some others. She took my ear off, but it was nearly a lot worse. And I... well, I just... stabbed her.
"John Davis tried to kill me after he found out about Eden. He gave me this." She turned, so that the others could see the red-splotched bandage on her jawline. "It took three of us to fight him. Without the group, they'd both have killed me. John and Eden."
The justification felt threadbare, even though the scars attested to its truthfulness. She continued. "After that... everything fell apart. The group got too big, people got greedy, and a fight broke out. A lot of people got shot. Jack, Donovan, Crystal. Me, a little bit. Those of us who survived went our separate ways. All of them are dead now, except me and Kaede Tsurumi. Ever since then, I've just been wandering. Trying to find someone else to band together with. I tried to reach out to Daniel Ozanne, but he... wanted out. Couldn't bring himself to do it alone. Fred Hobbes showed up, and I just kinda... freaked. He used to pick on me, him and his gang, and I thought he had people with him, and I... I protected myself."
She shuffled awkwardly on the seat. She wasn't lying. She'd thought that Fred was a threat. But she hadn't really tried, had she? Hadn't given him a chance. "And Elodie... Elodie was a mistake."
"Mistake" was an overly charitable description, but there was nothing accurate that she could bring herself to say. She hadn't had a valid reason for killing Elodie, beyond the paltry excuse they all wore around their necks. Greed, envy, fear of the cold. Nothing anybody would want in an ally. Nothing she wanted to admit that she was willing to kill over.
"Look, I... I know that there's no reason to trust me out here. But I really don't want to fight either of you. And I don't want to go it alone."
She looked at Evie, and the gun she still held ready to fire. "The way you feel about me? That's how I feel about you. That's how everybody is gonna feel about both of us. Neither of us is gonna be able to trust that we can team up with someone who isn't gonna want to gank us in the night because of what they've heard on the announcements."
"But!" Juanita held up a finger demonstratively. "How I see it is, that makes us each other's best options. We can trust each other, because we know nobody else will. And I've seen some of what's out there. I know that there's people I can't beat, unless I have allies with good weapons. If you look at it that way, there's no reason for me to attack either of you. So if you can't trust me, you can at least trust that I'll try to survive, and the best way for me to survive the next few day is with both of you alive and on my side. So... can we just, like... agree not to kill each other right now and get out of the cold?"
((Juanita Reid continued elsewhere))
V8 Characters:
Juanita Reid
Rebekah Hayes
Karin Han
EXTREME STEVE Dodds
Juanita Reid
Rebekah Hayes
Karin Han
EXTREME STEVE Dodds
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Dr Adjective
- Posts: 425
- Joined: Mon Jul 06, 2020 8:25 pm
- Location: UK
[pip skip authorised]
Sincerely, Evie listened. Letting Juanita go first was first and foremost by design to give herself a bar by which to measure how to frame her own recollection, but she was also genuinely curious to hear the other girls experiences. Hopefully Beatrice would be willing to share how she'd come so far without blood on her hands too, but until then, the saga of another multiple-killer was a fascinating insight into how at least one of the other hundred-some victims had gotten through the last week-and-a-bit.
First, a team. A list of names that conspicuously trailed off. Sore subject? Close friend, or closer, lost? Who was to say. At least it answered what had become of Ashlyn between abandoning Evie and Claire in the forest and getting killed by her own sister. Seemed like the idea of getting a bunch of people together that were ostensibly cool with killing their way to the end was, unsurprisingly, not a stable proposition however. They got too confident, got their collective nose bloodied, fell to infighting. Evie was smarter than that, she'd held off from starting anything resembling a fair fight, she'd kept her head down, kept a lower profile than Kitty, Jezzie, Salem. Definitely a lower profile than a goon squad going around spoiling for fights. They must've risen and fallen in the time it'd taken her to recover from Alex's attack, as she hadn't even heard tell of them after that.
The mention of Teddie Boyd caught Evie by surprise, drew a sad expression for a moment. He'd been good to her. She'd only heard that he died of an infected wound, no mention of his time before that. Another big group, possibly the team Chloé had been trying fruitlessly to hold together? Yet more proof that trying to bring together much more than a tight group of friends was a fool's errand, if so. Evie was smarter than that too. She and Claire had made excellent use of radio communication and keeping their heads down... just a shame that Claire had evidently decided several days ago that she wasn't really interested in rendezvousing with Evie again, and taken her half of the walkie-talkie pair with her. Not surprising though. Claire had seemed pretty set on taking a moralist stance, only willing to target people who... well, were like Evie was now. Hypocrite. Like it mattered who killed whom first, when the endgame was to kill at least one person and go home. Just a matter of who had the means and the will to move first, not who was more virtuous. They were all victims, it wasn't like anyone was going around gleefully picking people off for fun, right? Just kids scared for their lives, with bombs on their necks. Everyone was already dead, the only question left to be answered was which one among them got to change their status back to not-dead.
Next eyebrow-raise was for Kaede Tsurumi. Dani's devoted hanger-on. Doubtless more than a little pissed off at Evie as of the morning's announcements, but that was a gamble she'd chosen to take rather than start a shootout with Lily and her big fuck-off rifle. Strange to think she would've been part of anything without her heterosexual life partner, unless... mmhm. Stood to reason that Juanita might keep Dani's name out of the story, given who she was talking to. Evie gave it a moment's thought as Juanita awkwardly described her final killing as a mistake, and ultimately decided she didn't care about the minor deception. Healthy caution, nothing to be truly upset about. If it were even the case. Not worth devoting mental bandwidth to.
Then came the proposal.
"You..." Evie began, thinking about how exactly to phrase her response.
"You seem awfully sure you can trust me, without hearing my side yet."
She flashed a smile, one she hoped conveyed equal parts good-humour and danger. Juanita's proposition was an interesting and very appealing one. It also conspicuously left Beatrice out, assuming she would either go along with it or simply leave without making trouble. But if it were to work, Evie judged it important to establish herself as Not To Be Fucked With from the very beginning.
"I woke up in the tunnels under the research station. Near the little outbuilding with all the radio masts on it. I was dumb and hopeful back then, tried to see if I could get a signal to the outside world. Drew the wrong kind of attention doing that, let me tell you."
Thinking back, it all seemed so long ago. The attack, the aftermath, the days of convalescing under Claire's watch. Under any other circumstances, she'd say she owed the other girl her life. In these circumstances? Her life was too valuable a commodity to owe to anyone. In any case, it almost felt like it had happened to another person. A younger Evie, a child Evie. If not Chloé, then DeMarcus and Lara, and if not them, then Dani, somewhere among those four deaths had been a turning point for her. A baptism by fire, rite of passage, whatever one wished to call it. She'd grown out of being the helpless girl Alex had nearly killed, grown into a woman with the strength and wisdom to surpass Alex by leaps and bounds. She almost felt like she should thank him for the rough start, it had shown her the truth of things good and early, even if it had taken almost a week to really accept that epiphany.
"Alex Avanesian tried to skewer me on a spear. I got away, and so did he. So... I spent the next couple of days sat around in a lot of bandages, Claire Haig basically saved my life. I mean, maybe I could've done it myself, but, I dunno. Anyway. Then we came across Fitz and Victor, Fitz got pissed at me for looking at his gun? Like I'm supposed to just be relaxed as an unarmed and injured girl on the lawless death island around two boys with guns? So I left, Claire didn't come with me."
Then what? It took Evie a moment to piece together the exact sequence. Her mind wanted to jump right ahead to the one bright spot amongst the mire of misery, an evening of peace with Lara Bullock. A stolen kiss she still wasn't sure if she could truly regret.
"I ended up back in those tunnels, met Karin Han down there, she asked me about Fitz and Victor, I traded that for, uh..."
Oh, fuck it. Ten days down, four notches on her pistol? Who gave a shit any more if she was gay as well?
"I asked her if she'd seen, uh, my girlfriend. Kelsey Brewer. She lied to me, but I didn't know that until I got there, so... yeah, that was a fun goose chase. I guess she didn't find her guys either."
Or maybe she did. But she'd died a day ago, and not at either of their hands, so it seemed unlikely.
"So I headed into town, not in the best mood all told. Spent the best part of a week achieving fuck all and getting jerked around, y'know? And I run into Chloé Delacroix, acting so fucking morally superior that she's got a gun she won't even use to defend herself. Won't use it to protect the little group she was trying to hold together, so I ask her for it. I've already been stabbed, and I'm bigger and stronger than her besides, maybe I'm the better person to be playing bodyguard? She tried to fucking shoot me, right in the face. But her gun jammed, I live a charmed life, and, well, what do you want me to do? She tried to shoot my face off, so I hit her. And. You know. Look at me. I'm bigger and stronger than her, and I guess I really didn't know my own strength, 'cause she went down really fucking badly."
It was strange. Days ago, the mere thought of those events had been a dagger in her tender heart. How Chloé had looked skewered on splinters, choking on blood, asking for a swift end. Evie hated to see anyone or anything suffer, after all. But with three more bodies to follow, she'd hardened to the memory. She had to do it. Chloé had asked, begged, for mercy. Evie hadn't set out to kill her by slugging her in the nose, just to protect herself. As to why she'd needed to retaliate, maybe she'd even convinced herself that her request hadn't been so unreasonable, hadn't been a demand backed by implicit physical violence. She had to buy that less-than-half-truth, or else she was a monster, and everything she'd done since had followed from one act of vicious, self-serving cowardice. And Evie refused to accept herself as a monster or a coward.
"After that, killing her was mercy. She asked me to do it."
She didn't ask Evie to recount it with barely a hint of guilt or regret to her face or tone a handful of days later, of course.
"So... I did. I made it quick. You know me, I hate suffering, it's why..."
No, now wasn't the time to alienate anyone with moralising on her choice of diet.
"Anyway. So now I've got her gun, and, well, her friends get back and they're not excited to hear my version of events. So I run off. I was pretty shellshocked, obviously. Ended up sharing that little trapping cabin with Spuds, but, well, I left early in the morning. I... I wasn't looking forwards to how she'd take my having shot Chloé, you know? I could've explained, but... it was raw, right? I wasn't ready to face that."
Okay. Maybe she was a coward. But only in a more relatable, less-murderous way.
"Came across, um... I actually don't remember who she was. But in the graveyard outside the church in town. She was shit scared of me because the man on the speakers had just got done telling everyone I was a crazed gunman, I was trying to explain myself when DeMarcus started shooting at us both. Lara turned up too, I guess she followed me. I shot back at DeMarcus and she got caught in the crossfire, so... yeah. Two more kills for me, self-defence and letting Lara not bleed out in pain. I'm a real monster."
The derisive snort punctuated her sarcasm. She didn't even need to sell herself on the morality of those two, they truly were as justified as it got.
"So... where was I? I'd been looking for Kelsey the whole time, so I kept trying to find her. Figured I hadn't covered the whole research station properly, so I went back there. Met Dani instead."
Elodie had just been a mistake, had she? Evie could play that game too.
"And,"
Her eyes flicked down. The guilt was pretty plain to see. She could lie through her teeth, but she couldn't convince herself that shooting Dani in the head hadn't been selfish first and foremost. She could buy that the long-term mercy angle of it was a valid additional excuse, but not that it was the real reason.
"That was mercy too. She was suffering. I hate to see anyone suffer."
Maybe they'd buy that her downcast expression represented something else. Some dark truth about the state she'd found Dani in, that she preferred not to explain.
"So... if you two are okay with all that, if I'm who you want safety in numbers with? I could really use some company right now. It's been real lonely."
Evie lowered her gun at last to her hip, loose at her side, far more of a warning than a direct threat. With a cant of her head, she gestured towards the camp's cabin. There was an unspoken understanding, she felt, as to what Juanita was really proposing. They'd improve each other's odds of making it to the very end, right up until it was no longer worth their while to do so. Maybe even to the very last two, if the balance of power stayed in the right place. Maybe Beatrice would chafe at that, maybe she wouldn't even clock it. But as far as Evie was concerned, the promise of company and support was worth taking a risk on.
"You wanna get out of the cold?"
Sincerely, Evie listened. Letting Juanita go first was first and foremost by design to give herself a bar by which to measure how to frame her own recollection, but she was also genuinely curious to hear the other girls experiences. Hopefully Beatrice would be willing to share how she'd come so far without blood on her hands too, but until then, the saga of another multiple-killer was a fascinating insight into how at least one of the other hundred-some victims had gotten through the last week-and-a-bit.
First, a team. A list of names that conspicuously trailed off. Sore subject? Close friend, or closer, lost? Who was to say. At least it answered what had become of Ashlyn between abandoning Evie and Claire in the forest and getting killed by her own sister. Seemed like the idea of getting a bunch of people together that were ostensibly cool with killing their way to the end was, unsurprisingly, not a stable proposition however. They got too confident, got their collective nose bloodied, fell to infighting. Evie was smarter than that, she'd held off from starting anything resembling a fair fight, she'd kept her head down, kept a lower profile than Kitty, Jezzie, Salem. Definitely a lower profile than a goon squad going around spoiling for fights. They must've risen and fallen in the time it'd taken her to recover from Alex's attack, as she hadn't even heard tell of them after that.
The mention of Teddie Boyd caught Evie by surprise, drew a sad expression for a moment. He'd been good to her. She'd only heard that he died of an infected wound, no mention of his time before that. Another big group, possibly the team Chloé had been trying fruitlessly to hold together? Yet more proof that trying to bring together much more than a tight group of friends was a fool's errand, if so. Evie was smarter than that too. She and Claire had made excellent use of radio communication and keeping their heads down... just a shame that Claire had evidently decided several days ago that she wasn't really interested in rendezvousing with Evie again, and taken her half of the walkie-talkie pair with her. Not surprising though. Claire had seemed pretty set on taking a moralist stance, only willing to target people who... well, were like Evie was now. Hypocrite. Like it mattered who killed whom first, when the endgame was to kill at least one person and go home. Just a matter of who had the means and the will to move first, not who was more virtuous. They were all victims, it wasn't like anyone was going around gleefully picking people off for fun, right? Just kids scared for their lives, with bombs on their necks. Everyone was already dead, the only question left to be answered was which one among them got to change their status back to not-dead.
Next eyebrow-raise was for Kaede Tsurumi. Dani's devoted hanger-on. Doubtless more than a little pissed off at Evie as of the morning's announcements, but that was a gamble she'd chosen to take rather than start a shootout with Lily and her big fuck-off rifle. Strange to think she would've been part of anything without her heterosexual life partner, unless... mmhm. Stood to reason that Juanita might keep Dani's name out of the story, given who she was talking to. Evie gave it a moment's thought as Juanita awkwardly described her final killing as a mistake, and ultimately decided she didn't care about the minor deception. Healthy caution, nothing to be truly upset about. If it were even the case. Not worth devoting mental bandwidth to.
Then came the proposal.
"You..." Evie began, thinking about how exactly to phrase her response.
"You seem awfully sure you can trust me, without hearing my side yet."
She flashed a smile, one she hoped conveyed equal parts good-humour and danger. Juanita's proposition was an interesting and very appealing one. It also conspicuously left Beatrice out, assuming she would either go along with it or simply leave without making trouble. But if it were to work, Evie judged it important to establish herself as Not To Be Fucked With from the very beginning.
"I woke up in the tunnels under the research station. Near the little outbuilding with all the radio masts on it. I was dumb and hopeful back then, tried to see if I could get a signal to the outside world. Drew the wrong kind of attention doing that, let me tell you."
Thinking back, it all seemed so long ago. The attack, the aftermath, the days of convalescing under Claire's watch. Under any other circumstances, she'd say she owed the other girl her life. In these circumstances? Her life was too valuable a commodity to owe to anyone. In any case, it almost felt like it had happened to another person. A younger Evie, a child Evie. If not Chloé, then DeMarcus and Lara, and if not them, then Dani, somewhere among those four deaths had been a turning point for her. A baptism by fire, rite of passage, whatever one wished to call it. She'd grown out of being the helpless girl Alex had nearly killed, grown into a woman with the strength and wisdom to surpass Alex by leaps and bounds. She almost felt like she should thank him for the rough start, it had shown her the truth of things good and early, even if it had taken almost a week to really accept that epiphany.
"Alex Avanesian tried to skewer me on a spear. I got away, and so did he. So... I spent the next couple of days sat around in a lot of bandages, Claire Haig basically saved my life. I mean, maybe I could've done it myself, but, I dunno. Anyway. Then we came across Fitz and Victor, Fitz got pissed at me for looking at his gun? Like I'm supposed to just be relaxed as an unarmed and injured girl on the lawless death island around two boys with guns? So I left, Claire didn't come with me."
Then what? It took Evie a moment to piece together the exact sequence. Her mind wanted to jump right ahead to the one bright spot amongst the mire of misery, an evening of peace with Lara Bullock. A stolen kiss she still wasn't sure if she could truly regret.
"I ended up back in those tunnels, met Karin Han down there, she asked me about Fitz and Victor, I traded that for, uh..."
Oh, fuck it. Ten days down, four notches on her pistol? Who gave a shit any more if she was gay as well?
"I asked her if she'd seen, uh, my girlfriend. Kelsey Brewer. She lied to me, but I didn't know that until I got there, so... yeah, that was a fun goose chase. I guess she didn't find her guys either."
Or maybe she did. But she'd died a day ago, and not at either of their hands, so it seemed unlikely.
"So I headed into town, not in the best mood all told. Spent the best part of a week achieving fuck all and getting jerked around, y'know? And I run into Chloé Delacroix, acting so fucking morally superior that she's got a gun she won't even use to defend herself. Won't use it to protect the little group she was trying to hold together, so I ask her for it. I've already been stabbed, and I'm bigger and stronger than her besides, maybe I'm the better person to be playing bodyguard? She tried to fucking shoot me, right in the face. But her gun jammed, I live a charmed life, and, well, what do you want me to do? She tried to shoot my face off, so I hit her. And. You know. Look at me. I'm bigger and stronger than her, and I guess I really didn't know my own strength, 'cause she went down really fucking badly."
It was strange. Days ago, the mere thought of those events had been a dagger in her tender heart. How Chloé had looked skewered on splinters, choking on blood, asking for a swift end. Evie hated to see anyone or anything suffer, after all. But with three more bodies to follow, she'd hardened to the memory. She had to do it. Chloé had asked, begged, for mercy. Evie hadn't set out to kill her by slugging her in the nose, just to protect herself. As to why she'd needed to retaliate, maybe she'd even convinced herself that her request hadn't been so unreasonable, hadn't been a demand backed by implicit physical violence. She had to buy that less-than-half-truth, or else she was a monster, and everything she'd done since had followed from one act of vicious, self-serving cowardice. And Evie refused to accept herself as a monster or a coward.
"After that, killing her was mercy. She asked me to do it."
She didn't ask Evie to recount it with barely a hint of guilt or regret to her face or tone a handful of days later, of course.
"So... I did. I made it quick. You know me, I hate suffering, it's why..."
No, now wasn't the time to alienate anyone with moralising on her choice of diet.
"Anyway. So now I've got her gun, and, well, her friends get back and they're not excited to hear my version of events. So I run off. I was pretty shellshocked, obviously. Ended up sharing that little trapping cabin with Spuds, but, well, I left early in the morning. I... I wasn't looking forwards to how she'd take my having shot Chloé, you know? I could've explained, but... it was raw, right? I wasn't ready to face that."
Okay. Maybe she was a coward. But only in a more relatable, less-murderous way.
"Came across, um... I actually don't remember who she was. But in the graveyard outside the church in town. She was shit scared of me because the man on the speakers had just got done telling everyone I was a crazed gunman, I was trying to explain myself when DeMarcus started shooting at us both. Lara turned up too, I guess she followed me. I shot back at DeMarcus and she got caught in the crossfire, so... yeah. Two more kills for me, self-defence and letting Lara not bleed out in pain. I'm a real monster."
The derisive snort punctuated her sarcasm. She didn't even need to sell herself on the morality of those two, they truly were as justified as it got.
"So... where was I? I'd been looking for Kelsey the whole time, so I kept trying to find her. Figured I hadn't covered the whole research station properly, so I went back there. Met Dani instead."
Elodie had just been a mistake, had she? Evie could play that game too.
"And,"
Her eyes flicked down. The guilt was pretty plain to see. She could lie through her teeth, but she couldn't convince herself that shooting Dani in the head hadn't been selfish first and foremost. She could buy that the long-term mercy angle of it was a valid additional excuse, but not that it was the real reason.
"That was mercy too. She was suffering. I hate to see anyone suffer."
Maybe they'd buy that her downcast expression represented something else. Some dark truth about the state she'd found Dani in, that she preferred not to explain.
"So... if you two are okay with all that, if I'm who you want safety in numbers with? I could really use some company right now. It's been real lonely."
Evie lowered her gun at last to her hip, loose at her side, far more of a warning than a direct threat. With a cant of her head, she gestured towards the camp's cabin. There was an unspoken understanding, she felt, as to what Juanita was really proposing. They'd improve each other's odds of making it to the very end, right up until it was no longer worth their while to do so. Maybe even to the very last two, if the balance of power stayed in the right place. Maybe Beatrice would chafe at that, maybe she wouldn't even clock it. But as far as Evie was concerned, the promise of company and support was worth taking a risk on.
"You wanna get out of the cold?"
They were willing, it turned out. A momentary ceasefire, their own personal Christmas truce - an event Beatrice had committed to memory, even with the history class it came from long forgotten - in order to do nothing but simply talk. To share the paths that had brought them all to this moment, to this patch of ice-encrusted dirt. She had barely expected her suggestion to be considered, let alone for them to fully take her up on it. It was something of a minor miracle, really, and she felt a wave of relief flood over herself as Evie acquiesced to her request, and Juanita revved up the snowmobile to move closer to the conversation.
The tension hadn’t fully faded, of course. Guns had been lowered, not holstered. Suspicion still lingered between the two other girls; how could it not, with the body count between the two of them as high as it was? Beatrice wasn’t prepared to drop her own weapon either, not that she even could at this stage, with her hands clenching tight and her fingers moulded into the sides of the rifle.
But this was still progress. This was still working towards exactly the destination she wanted to reach. She would listen to each and every word her once-upon-a-time friends had to say. And maybe, if all the stars aligned, another minor miracle could happen, and the bloody paths they’d carved would make sense to her.
It didn’t take long for that hope to be dashed. Wanting to huddle together in a group was an understandable desire, rational even, a crime that Beatrice herself was guilty of. But doing so just to be the last folks standing, getting into fights with anyone who disliked what they were planning? It simply didn’t make sense to her. It felt like such a good idea, leading to such a baffling goal.
She wondered whether the group had taken a moment to consider what would happen when it was just them, and the ocean surrounding them.
Things spiralled from there, it seemed. A culture of fighting, leading to more fighting. Retaliation for previous acts, mistakes or otherwise. Evie’s tale had gone down much the same way. A single kill, dominoing into others, one by one. Acts of self-defence. Acts of mercy. All wrapped up in enough vague language to maintain plausible deniability.
It wasn’t fair, though, was it? Her only point of comparison was with Jessica. She had been wary of the girl too, for several days in a row, in fact. She had also garnered a second kill, shortly off the back of her first. But Beatrice had seen, first hand, that it had been done out of protection. She had witnessed, personally, how kind and brave and smart Jessica was, how her statement of a few minutes ago, that the announcements didn’t tell the whole story, truly applied to her friend. She had gone through so much with Jessica. Of course a few minutes of recounting your own personal trauma couldn’t measure up to that.
And maybe if she had run into either of these two alone, she would have risked extending the olive branch out further. Perhaps she would have seen how far their trust and friendship took them, and received proof that they were both more than just spree killers. But that hostile edge in the air still lingered. Ceasefire only ever lasted for so long. Whenever it ended, it didn’t care who got caught back up inbetween it. Maybe it would last a few more days. Maybe it wouldn’t even last past the following morning.
For now though, it was cold outside. Her friends were here, history be damned for tonight. She put up no resistance, as they effectively invited themselves in. She told them her own story - it would be rude at this point not to. She told them of her first awful day, huddled underneath desks, she told them of the chance meeting she had in the forest, she told them about Rebekah, about Jessica, about how they had helped her see the beauty in this island, how everything about them had inspired her to do whatever she could for whoever she could. Day turned to night. Restless sleep eventually claimed her. The words she would tell them in the morning rattled around her head as she drifted off.
"Thank you for spending time with me and talking to me again. I really enjoyed it. I missed you guys. Please leave and don't find me again. I don't want you to stay here."
She never got a chance to do so. When Beatrice awoke, Evie and Juanita were nowhere to be seen. There was no sign of a skirmish or a scuffle anywhere nearby, either inside or outside the cabin. Whatever had happened to both of them, and wherever they had gone, Beatrice knew would be a secret to her forever.
It was for the best, she was aware. They had complied with her request before she had even said it out loud. It didn’t soothe the pang of loneliness that sprung up inside of her, though.
Beatrice watched the sun rise over the lake, through the dusty cabin windows, and wondered what was next to come.
And what could have been.
((Beatrice Briggs continued in She was like a sunflower))
The tension hadn’t fully faded, of course. Guns had been lowered, not holstered. Suspicion still lingered between the two other girls; how could it not, with the body count between the two of them as high as it was? Beatrice wasn’t prepared to drop her own weapon either, not that she even could at this stage, with her hands clenching tight and her fingers moulded into the sides of the rifle.
But this was still progress. This was still working towards exactly the destination she wanted to reach. She would listen to each and every word her once-upon-a-time friends had to say. And maybe, if all the stars aligned, another minor miracle could happen, and the bloody paths they’d carved would make sense to her.
It didn’t take long for that hope to be dashed. Wanting to huddle together in a group was an understandable desire, rational even, a crime that Beatrice herself was guilty of. But doing so just to be the last folks standing, getting into fights with anyone who disliked what they were planning? It simply didn’t make sense to her. It felt like such a good idea, leading to such a baffling goal.
She wondered whether the group had taken a moment to consider what would happen when it was just them, and the ocean surrounding them.
Things spiralled from there, it seemed. A culture of fighting, leading to more fighting. Retaliation for previous acts, mistakes or otherwise. Evie’s tale had gone down much the same way. A single kill, dominoing into others, one by one. Acts of self-defence. Acts of mercy. All wrapped up in enough vague language to maintain plausible deniability.
It wasn’t fair, though, was it? Her only point of comparison was with Jessica. She had been wary of the girl too, for several days in a row, in fact. She had also garnered a second kill, shortly off the back of her first. But Beatrice had seen, first hand, that it had been done out of protection. She had witnessed, personally, how kind and brave and smart Jessica was, how her statement of a few minutes ago, that the announcements didn’t tell the whole story, truly applied to her friend. She had gone through so much with Jessica. Of course a few minutes of recounting your own personal trauma couldn’t measure up to that.
And maybe if she had run into either of these two alone, she would have risked extending the olive branch out further. Perhaps she would have seen how far their trust and friendship took them, and received proof that they were both more than just spree killers. But that hostile edge in the air still lingered. Ceasefire only ever lasted for so long. Whenever it ended, it didn’t care who got caught back up inbetween it. Maybe it would last a few more days. Maybe it wouldn’t even last past the following morning.
For now though, it was cold outside. Her friends were here, history be damned for tonight. She put up no resistance, as they effectively invited themselves in. She told them her own story - it would be rude at this point not to. She told them of her first awful day, huddled underneath desks, she told them of the chance meeting she had in the forest, she told them about Rebekah, about Jessica, about how they had helped her see the beauty in this island, how everything about them had inspired her to do whatever she could for whoever she could. Day turned to night. Restless sleep eventually claimed her. The words she would tell them in the morning rattled around her head as she drifted off.
"Thank you for spending time with me and talking to me again. I really enjoyed it. I missed you guys. Please leave and don't find me again. I don't want you to stay here."
She never got a chance to do so. When Beatrice awoke, Evie and Juanita were nowhere to be seen. There was no sign of a skirmish or a scuffle anywhere nearby, either inside or outside the cabin. Whatever had happened to both of them, and wherever they had gone, Beatrice knew would be a secret to her forever.
It was for the best, she was aware. They had complied with her request before she had even said it out loud. It didn’t soothe the pang of loneliness that sprung up inside of her, though.
Beatrice watched the sun rise over the lake, through the dusty cabin windows, and wondered what was next to come.
And what could have been.
((Beatrice Briggs continued in She was like a sunflower))
"bryony and alba would definitely join the terrorists quote me on this put this quote in signatures put it in history books" - Cicada Days, 2017