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[Snowpocalypse] Those Meddling Kids (L 2.7, R 2.5, S 2.7)
Silica,
You got the hell out of the Pier, dropping down into a snow drift. It wasn't as soft as you'd hoped, knocked your breath out. After seeing stars for a bit, you climb out of the snow drift, to your feet, and head back towards Underlake. The long trek, alone.
But maybe not, right? Surely you can catch Nose and One-Footed. So yeah, you head on, moving quick without the sled. By yourself, like you're used to. Hey, maybe you don't need to worry about them so much?
Why are you looking for them anyways?
You got the hell out of the Pier, dropping down into a snow drift. It wasn't as soft as you'd hoped, knocked your breath out. After seeing stars for a bit, you climb out of the snow drift, to your feet, and head back towards Underlake. The long trek, alone.
But maybe not, right? Surely you can catch Nose and One-Footed. So yeah, you head on, moving quick without the sled. By yourself, like you're used to. Hey, maybe you don't need to worry about them so much?
Why are you looking for them anyways?
Comments
At first I just run, run to get out of sight of the pier, run to get away from what's happened... but after a few minutes I slow, find a sheltered spot and hide out of sight for a few minutes. I don't hear anyone after me.
I consider going home... wherever the fuck that is, back to the city? To the park? The library... I can't.
I look at my hands for some reason, the little crescents of freezing blood on the edges of my nails and the marks they leave on my palm. That fuckers blood. Did I really make him shoot himself? I did, right? I did... the words of that crazy bitch in the graveyard whisper in my ear.
"Fuck..." I stand, looking out over the ice.
And I think of Footie, that look on her face was crushing. It was one thing walking away last week, but being dragged away like that... she saw everything, too... that fat fucker taking me by the hair like some piece of meat. What she must think...
I smile through my tears, almost laughing, "you'd never believe what actually happened Footie... you'd never guess..."
Fuck this, I can catch 'em in no time. What do you want me to say? They're my friends? I need them? I'm worried about them? Fuck... no, they need me right? And... and I ain't gonna let her last glimpse of me be that fucking bastard takin' me away... friends... I don't have friends... last think I fuckin' need... that and family.
But I do want to see them.
I wipe the wet from my cheeks and cut across the open ice towards the path I know they'll take. No doubt.
You find them out at the buoy. They evidently stopped there. You come up on them, they're sitting real close, on the lip of the buoy like it's some bench. You hear Nose saying something, lost in the wind. Then sobbing, that's One-Footed.
As you get closer, you hear Nose, "Footie, you gotta stop crying. Your fucken lashes are freezing!"
One-Footed slaps his hands away, her voice sounds heavy, like her nose is stopped up. Probably frozen snot. "I don't care! Fuck, Nose! She... that fucker kilt her, I know! Fucken why? Why'd she do that? We coulda ran!"
"We were in a corner! Nowhere to run, dumbass!" Nose says, loud, but not angry. "Fuckit, Footie. She's not stupid, okay? She's tough, she'll be alright, we'll see her later. It's getting dark already, we need to go."
"You go wan!" One-Footed shrieks. "I'm not going nowhere! Just go fucken on, I'm not leavin!"
I walk up, not really sneaking, but not making myself known right away... truth is I just can't say anything right away. I feel this feeling in my chest like... I gotta cry but I can't quite... takes me a few seconds to get my shit together.
"Hey!" I fuckin call out from a dozen paces, "what'd I fuckin' tell you punks? No fuckin' around... right? Why you sittin' here out in the fuckin' open?" I'm doing a shitty job of pretending to be angry and my voice cracks a couple times as I point at the frozen bouy and pretend to bitch...
But then I can't take it any more, I start to walk towards them, trying not to fuckin' cry... embarrasing as shit. "You fuckin' guys..."
One-Footed sits up straight, shocked. She whips around to see you, then sort of pushes herself up, using Nose as her leverage. With quick steps, she meets you before you reach the buoy. One moment, she's wiping at her eyes and nose with the back of a glove, then she is right on you, and not stopping. She ignores your personal barrier and walks into you, putting her head down a bit, touching your shoulder, then putting her arms around the small of your back. She sobs into your shoulder, "Ah'm sorry I left. I didn' wanna!"
Nose is watching you both from the buoy, not sure what the hell he's seeing. He looks glad you're back, but you know, he's not going to run up on you like that.
What do you do?
Yeah, I'm on the same page with Nose here... I don't quite know what to do but fuck it...
"You did good... ya got out of there..." it's hard to talk, she's holding onto me like it means something, like she fucking cares. It's weird and awesome and uncomfortable and... I put my left hand up and around her, resting just below her neck on her back, sliding to her shoulder. Not quite a hug, but not.... not one. "I fuckin' handled it..."
I'm lookin' at Nose though, sittin' out there watching... I just look at him and nod, like... a 'you did good too kind of nod.
My right hand is clenched at my side, still slighly bloody under the nails.
One-Footed hears you, you're pretty sure. But she doesn't let go. Not right away. She clutches to you until her sobs calm down. Then, looking at the lake, not you, she steps back, wiping at her eyes and nose again.
Nose tries to break the moment, "How'd you get out, Silica?"
We stand together, I'm not sure what it means, pretty sure nobody here does. But it means something... She's cryin' and I'm not good with that... cryin's something you do when nobody's around or when you're getting fucked or shot... not somethin' I can really deal with. So I stand, hand on her back, at some point I rub a little bit, gently, through the thick layers of her winter coat.
Nose speaks up and I look to him, shaking my head and taking a deep breath.
"I tell him he better step... you know... but he think I'm dirty, right? So..." I take a deep breath, not sure what to even say, "I scratched the fuck outta his ass and the asshole shot'imself in the fuckin' face..."
So I lay it out there for 'em... and I uncurl my right hand, showin' them what I did.
I shake my head sadly, "I ain't gonna be rollin' into the pier any time soon... this's bad shit... half the guard seen it happen."
One-Footed listens to your tale, and finally steps back, playing it off as well as she can. When you talk about him shooting himself, Nose is like "what the fuck?" face, but One-Footed just says, "Yer so thizzen, Silica." She smiles like she totally believes you, like you could do that, and it's awesome.
Nose comments, "You can still lead us over, though. We'll go into the Pier, trade out, then bring you snackies and shit. We can keep doing this. No need to quit." Nose is ready to go, get on, head home.
They don't seem bothered that much, but it's not like I said I made him shoot hisself, it's just something that happened as far as they know, right?
I pull away from Footie and take off my yellow coat, "gonna be gettin' dark by the time we home, wear this..." For some reason I keep lookin' at Nose. Feel like I can count on him. Feels like some day I might have to.
"Yeah Nose, sure... don't think nobody livin' saw us together. Nobody'll care anyways... so I think you guys are good. Let's get'on back."
I start moving, we're not that late, but any night travel is risky, even dusk sucks as that's when the winds start kicking in.
"Well come on now!"
One-Footed takes a little convincing to wear your coat, but she puts it on. It'd look better on her without the puffy coat underneath, of course. The color looks interesting with her freckles. Is she pretty, Silica?
Nose pulls the sled along behind you and One-Footed, the pair of you walk against the wind out on the lake. It's a rough afternoon, and the long stretches of nothing but sleet and blowing snow and the flat lake makes it actually a bit boring. What do you talk about?
You're maybe a half hour's walk from the entrance to Underlake when you spot a couple dog sleds. They're coming your way, moving fast, but pretty far away right now.
What do you do?
Long, boring walk huh? Well you know I had a fuckin' bad afternoon so I'm not feeling too talky. I do want to hop up to Nose though... tell him he did good back there.
Footie? Pretty? Fuck I don't know... but she's real right? Living a tough life on the lake and keeping herself together good. You know that's probably cause she's got Nose... she'd be real cold without him. Footie's got a genuine smile and her laughin' makes me laugh too. So yeah she's real nice to be 'round, they both are. Find myself walking along behind 'em and watching where she's putting her feet... but I'm watching Nosey sometime too though... you know? I like how he walks.
I catch up, "You know any fuckers ridin' dogs?" I ask as I spot the sleds, narrowing my eyes and trying to get a good look. "Let's get outta sight."
Wish I had my pistol, but fuck who am I kidding, if I got my pistol pointed at some fucker then I already fucked up.
One-Footed looks back at you, alot. Nose, not as much. He throws a few jokes your way, working on a nickname for you, like Silica is too formal for him. Luckily "dumbass" is his name for One-Footed, so he doesn't use it for you. What did he settle on?
The sleds, well, One-Footed calls out, "Stinky's gang! They ride 'em, only ones I know!" She picks up pace, like she could make it all that way.
If you want to find a place to hide, give me an Act Under Fire here, Silica.
"Fuck, we don't need any of that shit..." I head for the nearest cover, jagged ridge of ice or whatever.
Scting under fire:
(Rolled: 2d6+2. Rolls: 3, 1. Total: 6)
One-Footed and Nose-pick follow you over a ridge of ice. You squat down behind the couple foot high shelf. They probably saw you, the pair of them. If they're after you, you're dead.
The moments pass slow. You hear the dogs yelping and their nails clicking on the ice. The whip cracks. The sounds of a pair of male voices, calling "Mush! Mush!"
Who's hand are you holding as you sit there, waiting? Which one of you looks most scared, and who has a knife in their off hand?
The sleds come to a stop a few feet away. A guy, name's Pretzel, is talking to his dogs, calming them down, telling them to hush, because they're barking excitedly, a couple growling, maybe at you.
"Hey! You over there! Get the hell out here. Right now!"
What do you do?
"Shit.... they comin'" I whisper urgently. I'm holding Footie by the hand, almost to keep her still but also cause my hand's shakin' and I don't want her to see. I notice that Nose has his scaling knife in his hand, little good that'll do but I don't say so. Not a good time to bring him down.
Who looks the most scared? You know... probably me right now, after what happened at the pier, I'm lucky to have gotten away with as little trouble as I did... my luck's going to run out some day. I just want this to go away so we can get back and listen to some tunes.
Ok, this worked out alright last time, sure it did... I stand, showing my hands. "Hey, we just headin' underlake and got caught out... Squirrel' expectin' us... don't want no trouble."
One-Footed stands with you, but Nose stays down for a beat, then slowly stands up, hiding his knife.
This is Pretzel:
He looks you over, then Footie, too. Not salacious, well, not really. "Oh yeah? You know Squirrel, hunh? Then you're taking us to him. Get on the sleds, we'll drive you closer up."
This is his partner, Method:
One-Footed makes a tiny sound of unsure worry, but says nothing, looking to you. Nose says, loud to them, "We can walk. You can find Squirrel on your own."
That's when Method says from behind his weird dog-hyena pack, "We got you dead out here onna ice. You gonna be stupid? Won't nobody miss whelps like you. Take us to Squirrel."
What do you do?
Well color me perplexed. They lookin' for Squirrel? Didn't think his whereabouts were a secret exactly but what do I know... and I don't like how they're asking.
But that guy's talking threats, and the other guy's looking at us... in a way I don't care for. This just got serious.
What they got for weapons?
I swallow nervously, "hey we jus' got caught out here, don't mean nothin..." I look at Nose. Like, seriously look at him, my eyebrows raised a bit like... is bringing these guys to Squirrel even a thing? Cause if it's not this is a lot harder.
Will continue, but need to get Nose's eyes on me here.
Method has a rifle across the sled, in reach. Pretzel has a whip and a pistol.
Nose says back, "What you want with Squirrel? He don't hide from nobody."
"What we want," Method says, "Is eight large. And Squirrel knows where Seatbelt is. So take us fucken to him, and right quick."
Eight? Fuck... isn't that what Squirrel said the Genny's worth? They buyin? Doesn't feel like it.
I say quietly to Footie and Nose, "ok... we play along. Keep it down low... they don't got no gripe against us, let's keep it that way."
Then I step forward, my hands still showin' empty. "Allright... Squirrel ain't hiding from nobody... who's my fuckin' ride?" I gesture with a sideways nod of the head for the others to follow me.
Sure I asked, but I'm going straight for Pretzel's sled.
They follow your lead. Footie heads with Nose to ride with Method, and you've got Pretzel to yourself, it seems. Pretzel looks you up and down, then steps back off his area on the sled, "Step up, little lady. You're an icewalker then?" He asks like he knows, just making conversation.
Feel like I'm being checked out... I give the dogs their space and walk around towards the sled from the back.
"Yeah... that's what they say, right..." trying not to have an attitude here.
"Well, they always speak truth." Pretzel gravels.
A couple of the dogs bark at Footie and Nose, but they keep their cool. Footie ends up in a place on the sled like you, Nose has to ride on the front of the sled, on his ass.
"Mush! Mush!" Pretzel and Method call as they get their sleds going. The dogs bark and yip as they take off. The last bit of your trip is actually pretty thrilling, wind in your hair, the dogs moving at a good clip. Of course, Pretzel is pressed against you, and yeah, he's digging it. More than you, I'm sure.
Method pulls up alongside you. Footie's watching you. She doesn't look scared, she's just watching you, like she's gonna do whatever you do.
Anything happen on the way?
Least that's all he's doing... fine. I don't fight him or try to avoid the contact, just feel him against my side, sometimes my ass I'm sure.
I do meet eyes with Footie, and well... yeah you know this is actually kind of fun, thrilling, you say? I grip the bar tight and I'm not quite enjoying it but when we ramp off a big bump or something I give her a look or two, maybe even a nervous little smile.
If it weren't for these fuckers here... this wouldn't be so bad... yet.
On the way, I'm going to wrap a hand around Pretzel, round his waist so my hands up on his back, you know... steadying myself on the sled. He's right up against me and I feel him... feel his fucking body heat... and I can't get what happened to that pier guard outta my head... it wasn't that different from this... could I make... Pretzel? If I had'ta? Could I make him?
But he catches me looking up at him and I ask, probably have to almost shout to be heard, "you don't mean no harm Underlake, do ya? You stayin the night?"
Pretzel's digging this, your hand on him, your ass up against him. Yeah, he gets a woody at some point, you feel it. His smile's a bit bigger, not goofy or "I'm gonna get laid", just, you know, digging the moment for what it is. Pretty girl, sleds racing, this is his groove.
Footie whoops over one bump, and she's grinning, too. Her big goofy grin that she wears when she doesn't think anyone's watching. Nose, though, he's hating life up there as cargo.
When you ask Pretzel, he answers, "Don't plan on hurtin anyone, bad for bidness. But if Squirrel holds out... it IS eight large, baby. Why you ask about stayin? You got a place?"
(Rolled: 2d6+2. Rolls: 5, 1. Total: 8)
He is telling the truth. He doesn't want to walk in and hurt Squirrel to get info on the generator. But he wants eight jingle, and he's not above hurting him to get it.
Feels like he means it... he's just a normal fucker handling his business... ok then. I'll be on guard when we arrive, but this is just this... and it's kind of awesome.
Not answering him about a place, but I just press my ass against him a little bit. Not enough to you know... set him off but enough to let him know I'm on his vibe. Sure... just the moment for what it is. I'm tight against him and lean up a bit to ask, "how fast can this fucking thing go?"
And then I watch over at Footie and Nose, grinning, hoping we get a fuckin' free thrill.
Pretzel doesn't answer with words, he just cracks the whip, calls much a few times, and the sled picks up more speed. This is as fast as you've seen Wonky go, Silica. Maybe faster. But there's this raw power of the sled that is so much wilder than a snowmobile, or a motorcycle. It's a thrill, for sure.
Pretzel's focused on the dogs with his whip and reins, but he manages to push up against you, too. He's definitely enjoying the bit of action he gets. Perhaps due to the weight, Method isn't able to keep pace, but he does speed up, too. Footie calls out a few more times, excited at the feeling that you feel, too.
All too soon, you're coming along to the entrance to the Underlake Mine. The gangers start slowing down, eventually pulling to a stop.
What do you do?
I share her excitement. You know, I love going fast, don't get to do that so often in this world, but it's the best...
I slide down, squeezing between Pretzel and the runner bar to slide off to the other side. My hand runs along Pretzel's front as I disengage myself, my fingers just slip across his crotch this one time and I say, "thanks... man that was ballin' fast!" I rush over to the other sled as they pull up, excitedly smiling at Footie and Nose...
"Didja see! We left you in the dust!" It's easy for a moment of adreniline, to forget you may be in danger... though i don't think so... not this second.
But once they start getting their game faces on, heading indoors, that might quickly change. Gotta get my shit together... but I can't stop smilin' just yet.
Footie nods, "Yeah, you were blazin. Nose's fat ass slowed us down, heh."
"Fuck you, dumbass!" Nose calls back as he carefully disentangles himself from the sled carriage.
Method and Pretzel work quick to drop pegs and set up their dogs to wait. They look pretty menacing, so you'd guess that most folks won't mess with their stuff. Pretzel says, "Alright, you three. Lead on."
Nose heads on first, Footie sticks near you. Pretzel is walking behind, Method up front with Nose. It gets tense now, the whole threat becoming more real.
"You guys're just gonna talk to 'im now, right?" One-Footed asks, trying to sound casual.
"We'll axe questions. Up to him if it stays as talkin." Method answers.
I kind of wish she hadn't asked, brought down the mood that's for sure.
I softly repeat to myself, "ok, keep it cool.... we're alright... not gonna be trouble..." But I gotta remember we're kind of hostages here aren't we... fuck. I Shoulda tried somethin' out there... I start going over in my head what I coulda done different... coulda made a run for it in the snow, lost 'em somehow.
But we enter the tunnels, yeah, following Nose. If it comes to it I'll try and keep Footie out of any shit that happens. Nervous as shit. Guy brought his rifle, right? Fuck... why'd I have to lose my piece, I'm fuckin' useless in here.
Nose leads you through tunnels that are starting to seem familiar now. There's almost an order to it, like the inside of an ant farm, if you've ever heard of that.
As you get closer, you hear this echoing down the tunnels from Squirrel's central hub:
When you arrive, Squirrel is there, sitting at his work table with a big drawing pad with maps. A couple of kid miners are there with him. He's going over some shaft maintenance with them. He looks up to see you, and the gangers. He asks you, "Hey Silica. We got some deal cooking?" He smiles, like maybe this is new business.
What do you do?
Nose leads the way in and I'm on his tail with Footie. If Squirrel takes a good look at our faces he'd probably see that this isn't just a client or something... I know enough to know this is serious, but these guys aren't soldia's or anything. I don't really get it... so I keep my fucking mouth shut unless I gotta...
"Hey uh... these guys were solid enough to give us a lift on their sleds... and they wanna talk to ya... about somethin..." I look back at the sledders, noting if they got their hands on their guns or anything. "Isn't that right...?"
Hoping to sound you know, friendly or some shit. Am I still a fuckin' hostage here?
Method's rifle is slung over his shoulder, Pretzel's pistol is in his jacket, not out. His whip is in his belt, Indiana-style. Squirrel catches your serious look, and shifts his gaze, reading the threat. He inquires, "Fellas, you from Stink Bug's crew?" They nod. He asks, "What's your man need? Underlake can help."
Pretzel says as he taps his whip, "Tell us where Seatbelt is. Then we're gone."
Squirrel shrugs, "I barely know the asshole. Last I seen him was a week ago, he rolled in here with some crazy idea about the mines, just had to talk to me about it. It was a bunch of horse shit, waste of my time." He adjusts himself on his seat, playing it like he's got an itch.
Method reaches for his gun, not all quick, but like he's going to make sure it is known. "Tubby, we don't want to hurt your kids here. Or you. But it's eight large for the gennie. Seatbelt's the asshole puttin' word out to move somethin' big. He came 'round here before the job. We know you're in this..."
Pretzel starts walking away from Method, like he's looking around the little cavern, but you know he's getting a good crossfire. "Lots of places to hide shit. In the mines. Maybe he stuck it somewhere here?"
"Listen, boys. I know the Soulja Boys are lookin for their generator. I've heard about the big reward." Squirrel's trying to talk casual, but there's tension in the air. "But I can't help you. Even if you cut me in for one, I wouldn't give him up. Because I got nothing. To do. With his shit."
It looks like Squirrel isn't going to budge for words. You know what comes next, Silica.
What do you do?
Fuck... This shit is turning bad, I feel a knot in my chest, I look at Footie standing by me, this look on my face... they gonna cap Squirrel, I don't fucking believe this shit! We was just racin outside and it comes to this!
Fuck you Squirrel, you fucked, man... give up fucking Seatbelt, he ain't worth it!
But ok, tunnels, I hate fucking tunnels... but they do to I bet... sledders like their wide-opens... that way is the beds... that way is the cleaning station, the tunnels... that way is out... they're not scared of us, eyes on Squirrel... so whatever goes down we got a couple seconds... fuck... You got this Silica... you got this...
(Rolled: 2d6+2. Rolls: 1, 2. Total: 5)
Pretzel shakes his head, and while you can't see his eyes behind his Eskimo glasses, you can feel things shift. He reaches up for his whip and in a flash, he snaps it out, then flicks it across the few feet between him and Squirrel, catching him right in the fucking cheek.
Squirrel hops back after the hit, a hand to his face. He drops down, in pain, trying to hide his face from another lash. You see Method has his rifle out, pointed right at Nose.
"How's about we axe with more EMPHASIS?" Method says as he shoves the gun in Nose's face.
It is on, Silica. These guys have decided that Squirrel is hiding something and hurting him, and you, is their best option to get him to roll on Seatbelt. The good news is that they haven't shot anybody yet. Not like Underlake has guards, but there is Merrell's boys, they might come along eventually. So there's that to hold them up.
But a whole world of pain can be visited on you if Squirrel doesn't speak up with the truth or a lie they believe.
What do you do?
The crack of the whip makes me cringe, my knees bend and I kind of cover myself as I'm being attacked. Fuck... never seen shit like that!
I feel hot, the tunnel feels dark and close, like I can't move. I look around... wait, which way? I feel myself start to panic... I'm not good with guns, and I don't want to see anyone hurt... fucking gun in Nose's face? Are you kidding me?
Squirrel's on the fucking floor, bleedin' from the face and... just... fuck you Squirrel! Give it up! This fucker meant it, if he hears what he wants to know they gonna leave us be! Just fucking give him up, what's he to you?
I feel the storm rise up around me, filling the tunnel.
(Rolled: 2d6+2. Rolls: 4, 4. Total: 10)
xp(1)
Squirrel looks up, right at you, Silica. When you glare at him, he wincees a bit, then says, "Don't hurt 'em, damnit! They're just kids!"
Pretzel whips him again, across the back, opening up his shirt, a line of blood now showing underneath. Squirrel cries out, and Pretzel says, "It'll all be over when you give up Seatbelt. Don't be stupid, man. He aint worth dyin for."
Pretzel waits, knowing Squirrel will break, and he looks up at you again, Silica. He shakes his head no, like "no, I won't give up. I won't give in to these guys." And you see blood come out of his ears, a lot of blood. He blinks, and his eyes become bloodshot and he cries out in shock and pain, throwing his hands up over them, like he wants to hold them in.
"What the hell, Pretzel?" Method asks, like he's shocked at what is going on.
"No!" One-Footed shouts, and she breaks out, trying to run over to Squirrel. It's a gut instinct thing, brave and stupid. "Squirrel!"
Method flinches, and without thinking about it, he swings the rifle around to line up with One-Footed as she runs across. He fires.
One-Footed is hit, she staggers and falls to the floor of the ice cave, "Grrk!" is all she utters before she hits the ground.
What do you do?
Damn it, Squirrel, give him up! Then he starts to bleed... what the hell, I don't... this didn't happened before.... I just kind of stare at him, I don't understand what's happening and urgently ask, "what the fuck! Squirrel!" I glance at my hands again... is this me?
Then Footie rushes for him and ... and holy shit! I just scream, an anguished scream at Method which can't possibly now do any good... there's no words... no fucking words!
Rage overtakes me, everything else is grey as Footie falls, her deep red blood running... I leap at Method and scream as I pounce on him, barely words at all, "goddamnit Squirrel! You fucking shit!" without thinking I have that ice pick thing in my hand and I just fucking attack the guy.
I'm not strong, but I'm nothing if not fast and I'm going to fucking stab that thing into his fucking neck until he just fucking... dies!
(Rolled: 2d6+2. Rolls: 6, 6. Total: 14)
You jump up onto his back, a leg half around his waist and start wailing on Method. You get a good solid stab into his neck before he starts moving. The second stab catches him right in the cheek. Then he's trying to duck down, out of your way, anything. The third pierces his eardrum. His legs buckle and he's screaming, loud and high, unbelievable painful screams.
The fourth hits home at his temple, and he's still falling. Each time you pull back, the pick sticks a little more. Blood sucks at the pick, trying to hold it in, but you yank it out each time and the blood sprays out and flicks back.
The fifth is back into his neck as you both slam into the ground. He rolls a little, with what energy he has. But it's more of a twitch. Somewhere in there, you hear a couple gunshots, not rifle, something else.
The sixth is back in his neck, where you were aiming all this time. The seventh hits true, same place, because, you now realize, the target is no longer moving. He's stopped moving. He's not moving at all.
You hear the sound of someone running away, feet scuffing on the floor of the ice cave.
But you're looking right at One-Footed. Lying there. There's blood, Silica. She isn't moving.
What do you do?
Yeah I just lose it, stabbing him until he stops moving, screaming. I half expect to feel bullets tearing into me, killing me... now I know how it feels. And now I know how it feels to kill with my own hands... holy shit...
I raise my head from the dead sledder to see Footie laying there still and I half crawl, half-run over to her. Find her face, I gotta see... I roll her onto her back, "oh shit... oh shit..." I just cry quietly... "Footie... oh fuck..."
She's gone, isn't she?
You roll One-Footed onto her back, she doesn't fight, but groans when she moves. Her whole stomach is covered in blood. She blinks a couple times, then looks up at you, terrified. She looks so pale, Silica.
Her hands are sticky wet with her own blood, she was trying to hold it in or something, before you rolled her over. She moves her mouth to talk, but only panting breaths come out.
It's shocking, the blood, the suffering... we were fuckin' riding outside just a few minutes ago... I don't have a clue what to do in this situation. It fuckin' hurts to see her like that, bloody... fuckin' dying. For a second I look around like... like... but there's nothin' here. The fuck is everyone?
I just... just get close to her face, my ear close to her mouth, "fuckin' shit Footie..." don't know what the fuck to do, I put my hand on the wound, on top her hands, entwine my fingers in hers, slick with blood.
"You good, Footie... you good, I got this..." but I don't... I got nothin' here... we're miles from the doc and it's not like I'm walkin' into the pier.
One-Footed lays there, eyes fixed on you, still wide and fearful, but so wholly focused on you. She relaxes a little when you talk to her, when you touch her hands, push your fingers into the sticky wet blood on hers and take her hands.
For a long moment, she just looks up at you, panting short breaths. Then she eases back, the stress, the adrenalin fading, seeping out of her. A gentle smile breaks her face. "Ssssilica..." She pulls her left hand free to reach up and touch your cheek. It's like she can't open her hand all the way, and she settles for brushing your cheek with her knuckle. You feel the blood smear on the side of your face. Her life's blood.
This is playing in the background
To Silica,
That masked guy, from Frontside Grab Indy's, he is pushing Pretzel back in here. Pretzel has no weapons on him. That masked guy has them. He sees you and Footie lying there.
To Ross,
You see in this chamber is the guy known as Squirrel, lying on his side, blood at his ears and eyes, a big lash-mark on his back.
There's another member of Stink Bug's gang, a bigass pool of blood from his neck, slowing growing bigger.
In the middle of the place is Silica, kneeling over a dying girl. Silica's crying, trying to talk to her, reassure her or something. It's the most intimate moment you've seen Silica share with someone in as long as you can remember.
What do you do?
She touches my face, she doesn't feel quite so warm this time... I just fuckin' cry. Can't stop looking at her, that's all I can do right? Be here... I reach up to hold the hand she raised near my face and I just see the light in her eyes fading... Fuck... "Footie, what do I do?" I lean over her... I want to say something to her... I want to... but I got nothin... I look in her eyes maybe for the last time and finally press my lips gently to hers... I hope she can still feel it. I kiss her goodbye, just for a moment, then pull back to look at her eyes again...
There's something I should say but I can't...
I feel him though, that fucker's here... how? I don't care. I lean over my dying friend, our cheeks touching. Nobody's taking a moment of this from me... nobody.
This is not what I wanted to see... My whole body stiffens when I see Silica kneeling over that girl. I feel my finger playing with the trigger of my shotgun, just edging the threshold of ending this asshole's life. "You fucked up, son," is all I can say to keep the illusion going... This prick had better pray to some heretofore unseen deity that my sister doesn't have a fucking scratch on her.
I poke the small of his back with my shotgun, and growl, "kneel." regardless of whether he complies, I lean in and whisper in his ear, "any last words?"
Your tears drip down onto her chin and neck, and she keeps watching you. Her eyes widen just slightly when you bend down to kiss her, and you feel her breath in your mouth. She closes her lips weakly against yours, but they're so dry. Chapped, just a little, from the wind outside.
You press your cheek to hers, and in those last moments, with her ebbing strength, she leans her head into you. The final breaths hit your ear, brush back your hair so slightly.
Then the breaths are gone. Her fingers relax. Her body slacks. She's gone. Eyes still open, wide and staring. At you.
What do you do?
I hear that... I hear the sounds of death about to happen... all I can see is Footie's freckled face, though. But I turn my head ever so slightly towards the masked intruder and see him telling the sledder to kneel... I know what that probably fucking means..
"It ain't his fuckin' fault... alright?" I quietly say, my voice cracking between my cries... I notice Squirrel layin' there and glare at him for a second... before turning back to her. She's gone...
And I hold her still.
There's surprise on Pretzel's face. He doesn't kneel, he's still watching that dead girl, like it's penance or something.
He confesses with a calm voice, "This went bad wrong. Fucked up. We just wanted eight large. Stupid Method. Damnit."
Still... Something about Silica's voice... I lower my gun and sigh. "Run back to Stink Bug and tell him Ross sent you. I hear word of you shooting any more little girls, and my face'll be the last thing you ever see — got it?"
Pretzel nods, then steps away from you, Ross, and moves around. He's not asking twice, and he's GTFO to rise back to Condom Nation.
Then you two are alone. Just a dead girl, a dead ganger and maybe some dead chubster nearby.
And some cello version of hard rock playing.
What do you do?
I rise up to my knees, not lookin' up at the mask. Gently I place Footie's hands down across her chest... there's so much blood... I just shake my head slowly and stare, I'm not ready to stand yet... my knees weak. It's hard to breathe. I'm shaking.
"Why you tailin' me? No fuckin' way you jus' happen to walk in here..."
I look up at the masked guy, turn my head and stare... there's somethin' bout him... him...
I try to stand, a staggering unsteady step with one hand on the ground. I get to my feet and remove my yellow coat and lay it over top of Footie. Cover her from the waist to the neck and leave it there... I wipe at my eyes with the heels of my hands... I ain't in too much of a hurry.
"Don't know what the fuck you're waitin' for..." I say to him with a sharp look...
I take a step back from Footie, finally... peel my eyes away. I reach down and pick up the bloody icepick and walk over to Squirrel... just like a couple steps away. Is he fucking alive?
"You fuckin' know me... right... hangin' round like my fuckin' shadow..." I look at... "him" again. I stand over Squirrel with the pick in one trembling hand... I shout the next, through my anguish, "before you fuckin' say 'we' again, you show me who the fuck 'we' is... show me..."
I'm afraid I already know.
Squirrel's breathing, yeah. He's in rough shape, but he's alive.
She wants to know who keeps following her around? Picking up her shit? Fine. I slip out of my goggles, and pull down the scarf over my face... No more mystery...
"There," I whisper, eyeing the room cautiously, "fucking happy now?"
I just... don't fucking believe it. I mean... it makes sense, and I even suspected... seeing my sister in the graveyard with Jester acting like... well, not at all like the whore I thought of her. The way people talk about her didn't match what I knew and it didn't make any sense...
As soon as she's removed enough that I know her face I look away. I don't want to see her face... don't want her to have seen me like this...
I stand here bloodied and broken inside. Footie's gone... Nose ran the fuck away... Squirrel's laying here like an asshole. My hand tightens around the pick and I raise it a few inches like I'm gonna do something but instead I just scream at Squirrel. A brief intensely frustrated and primal cry, and I throw the pick down so it clatters against the icy floor and bounces away somewhere.
I look back up at Rossi and open my mouth, but it's hard to say anything, "I.... I just can't right now..." I shake my head slightly... she can tell that I'd be screaming shit at her, oughta be... but I just barely manage to say, "she's gone..."
This is the exact reason why I don't like travelling with people... If something like that happened to Silica or Jester, I don't know what I'd do with myself. I used to go hookup with random assholes after a kill — maybe because getting lost in booze and sex is a decent way of dealing with shit you can't change — but it's not like there's a fuck-ton of perspective to be found there...
Seeing Silica stand there over her dead friend... All this blood... That'll fuck a person up.
"Silica," I whisper before pausing to find some words of comfort... I find none. I shake my head. "It's not safe down here... We've gotta go." I look down at the girl, and swallow hard before offering, "d'you want me to carry her out or something?"
You hear a scuffle of someone walking. It's Nose, followed by Lemma. They're coming in, surveying the scene. Nose has this look of shock when he sees Footie. He can't stop looking at her.
To Ross:
You hear it, too. Enough warning to duck behind the scarves and goggles. It's that kid Nose, but behind him is Lemma. Lemma has her rifle out, not pointing it at you, just being cautious.
To Lemma:
You follow Nose back the way he came. He leads you into the chamber where you first met Seatbelt. In here is Silica, standing in the middle over the dead body of the other girl who helped out with the gennie. Silica has blood on her face and her torso, she's been crying. Standing nearby is that guy Ross, all covered up, peering your way.
There's a guy, his name was Method, he bled out at one corner, his rifle by his body. Squirrel is unconscious in the corner, looking rough. Looks like somebody whipped him, and his eyes and ears bled for some reason.
ALL:
Chances are good that three shots will bring folks this way real soon.
What do you do?
I'm just trying to breathe... my sister shows her face and speaks... almost kindly. Though I don't really hear it now I definitely notice.
I turn my eyes up to her and try not to look at the dead body under my bloody yellow coat, "no... fuck it... don't mean nothin' now..." I almost start to cry again but swallow it down.
I wipe at the tears on my cheeks as if I don't want Rossi to see, and only now do I realize there's such blood on my hands. I look at them, fingers apart... fuck. I did this... I really fucking did this. I look up at Rossi's eyes.
Then I hear Lemma and see Nose again... he ran. I don't blame him but I can't look at him. Not now.
"Let's just... get outta here... I hate this... this fuckin' cave."
Ok what the hell now... I see that shift in her posture, there's something here... I'm suddenly tense... as if I could feel worse.
I look slowly over at Lemma, my hollow eyes dark and sullen... "t'sall fucked..."
"Did they find out anything?" This is bad, but it could be a lot worse.
If I don't have to run down any others of Stink's gang, we're going to need transport for Squirrel and One-Footed's body. I start looking for something to make sleds out of. The masked person looks like they could pull some weight.
"This place is going to be a zoo when the others get here," I call to the group, "if we're doing something, let's do it quick — otherwise let's get the fuck out of here."