[Snowpocalypse] Here Again? (S 3.2)

Rich

To Silica:

You wake in a place that feels odd, but you've been here before, once. It smells like stale sweat and old, dried grease. You're on a thin twin-sized mattress with a few broken springs that poke your back. Your shoulder aches.

The room echoes a bit, sounds bouncing off earth. As you recall, the room is about the size of a walk-in closet. There's the bed, plastic cabinet that is effectively a dresser, a bedpan, a stack of old magazines and an ancient TV and a little generator. The walls are all old, frozen dirt. There is an open passageway leading into another room just outside this one. Wonky is lying beside you, passed out. He's in rough shape, and smells of booze.

What do you do?

scott

Silica

I wake. The fear of the attack still fresh in my head like I was there. it's startling to be suddenly awake and my dreams haven't been kind. My breaths are shallow and panicked as if those fuckers were still here beatin' on us.

As suddenly as I wake, I sit up. My shoulder burns and I cringe from the pain and feel with my other hand what's happened... it's tender and painful, damn it...

I decide not to let myself fucking cry about it, though my face shows that I need to. Finally I look at Wonky. He's hurt, huh? He protected me huh? Don't feel like he's the good guy here... I'm angry.

"Hey..." I quietly say. Though it looks like he's sleeping.

Rich

To Silica:

Wonky starts awake, jerking a bit when you speak to him. He sits up, and the mattress shifts with his weight. "Fuck... that was crazy. Stupid Salty Dawgs, Told them we're square." He looks over at you. "I'll take you to Nedd's, you need stitches and shit."

The side of his face has a jagged cut from some of the glass, the blood looks barely dried. His shoulder is still seeping a bit and he carries his arm limp. "You alright?" He looks over at you, like he's going to touch you, check out your wound.

scott

Silica

He kind of startles me when he wakes... if he were sleeping I just might have decided to disappear on him. Shitty I know but... shitty thing.

He reaches out to touch me and I want to just tell him to fuck off and pull away but... fuckin' Wonky... under all the times we've shared I still worry that he'll snap. I'm familiar with him, it doesn't mean comfortable... I've lived with far worse.

So I make the slightest of motions to stand, but I don't... my butt sets back down into the mattress and I let him look, let him touch me.

"It don't even fuckin' hurt..." I lie.

Rich

To Silica:

Wonky reaches up moves you a little so he can see the wound on your back and shoulder. He looks, and does a sharp intake of breath. "Shit! That don't hurt? You're shitting me, Silica." He lets you go, his touch was gentle. Still hurt, but he wasn't rough.

"Damn. You're a lil badass." He reaches into a side pocket on his black camps, pulls out a little pistol, shoves it in your hand. "Take it. For trade or whatever."

He pushes himself up, offers you a hand. "Pier Guards wanted you. Had to take off outta there. Nedd was closed up, so's I brought you back here. But Nedd should be around before long."

scott

Silica

It does hurt, I grit my teeth and a little whine escapes as he looks at the wound, but I don't fuckin' cry.

Wonky offers me the gun which is... weird... I take it, just looking at it. I turn it over in my hands a couple times, "wh... why?" But he's already telling me about the guards which... oh shit. I figured they'd be after me but still... oh shit.

"He's comin' here?" I'm not thrilled, takes a couple seconds to go on, "fucker hates me, Wonky... I'll get lost, ok.. let him patch you up."

Rich

To Silica:

"Why? I fucked up, got you hurt. S'why. Sides... if you'd had a piece, that bitch wouldn't have clipped you, yeah?" He tries to offer a smile, but his smiles don't fit his face. They look sort of terrifying.

"That fucker will keep your wound from getting infected." Wonky barks. "You aint going nowhere."

scott

Silica

My mouth is a little nervous slit, eyes wide. Yeah... ok I get it... I sit back down on the edge of the bed, really uncomfortable with this shit.

Yeah, you fucked up... I exhale a long breath like a teenager that's told no.

"Fine... ok fine..." Still won't listen. And I wait.

Rich

To Silica:

"Cool." Wonky says, like you're all happy now. Which you aren't, but he can't tell. He starts to head down the hall. "Gonna get my cuz to try and get the bullet out again. We had to stop on account of the blood. You can stay here, or whatever."

scott

Silica

"Doc on the way right? Get the fuckin' doc ta do it!"

What the hell, man... I look around the room for my bag. Realizing I have a handful of meds in there I got for easy barter. Maybe some of that fuckin' disinfectant powder that hurts like hell and sizzles in your cut... hate that shit.

Rich

To Silica:

Wonky keeps walking, "You know how much he charges to pull a bullet? Can't afford it."

scott

Silica

That makes me pause. Damn, Wonky... what am I to you?

I look down at the little handgun he gave me, turn it over again in my hand then stand up and walk to him. Not touching him or anything, just walking over... I hold it out to him, "give him this... ok?" I kind of laugh at myself in a sad little way, "you know I can't fuckin' use these things... probably shoot my damn self in the foot."

I hold it towards him again, "just take it ok... get fixed up."

Rich

To Silica:

Wonky puts his good hand up, "No. Take the fucken thing. After we're done with Nedd, I'll show you how to shoot. It'll save yer ass."

He turns to head down the hall. You see his cousin, a pudgy, much less angry, slightly younger version of him. He gives you a nod.

scott

Silica

Nothin' I can fucking say... I stand there and watch him hobble over to his cousin, who turns out is a remarkably tolerant person. I nod back. Shit... this sucks.

Rich

To Silica:

Wonky's cousin, who is named Kwaito, is set up in their dingy kitchen, with a bunch of crates for storage, a hitop table with matching stools, and a wood stove. On the table are bottles of booze. Wonky starts drinking up, some clear liquor. Kwaito nods to you, then picks up a pair of long tweezers or pliers or something.

Kwaito looks over to you, "Hey, this isn't pretty. If you wan go, you can." Knowing you, you don't go. Wonky grips the table as Kwaito slides the needle-nose pliers into the wound and starts slowly rooting around.

Wonky grunts a couple times, and his knuckles go white as he grips the table tighter, tighter. His teeth grind and blood starts pouring down his back.

scott

Silica

I watch as Kwaito prepares his tweezers, pulls back Wonky's clothing and prepares to remove the bullet. But as Wonky grimaces and I see blood I just... lower my face and turn away, I can't take this... I really can't take this.

Wonky ain't lookin so yeah... the tears I been holding back come out... being fucked up like that... I thought I was dead. And Wonky... he doesn't know it but he's scaring the shit outta me... just... makin' me stick around like this. I just wanna fuckin' go but... I fuckin' owe him or some shit...

But what's worse is that I'm thinking of Father... a little whine escapes my lips as I think of it. So much blood... Rosie, damn it... why'd you leave me there?

Memories flow into me... standing on the periphery of father's operating "theater" as he called it... he'd make me stand there as he worked. Tell me to bring him some tool or other. Sometimes he'd try to show me the fucking wound... grab my hand despite my cries and force my little fingers into the torn up meat, into the blood... make me "feel the life slipping away..." it always felt like a threat.

I shudder and hug my arms around myself... the smell of blood, the cries of pain from his poor poor fucking patients. I'd freeze up, feel sick... black out... I even lost my lunch a couple times.

I can't stand this shit... Rosie... for a day there we were together... but I just had to fuckin' go... I couldn't tell you why. You know why? Because you had him... Jester. Couldn't stand to see you together when I got nothin' for myself... good for fucking you... but deep inside I'm happy for her... never admit it but there it is.

Why the fuck am I thinking of Father... of my fucking sister and this guy she loves.

I got nothing nearly as real.

scott

Helping Rossi. Something connects us right? That much is clear.
(Rolled: 2d6+1. Rolls: 4, 5. Total: 10)

Rich

To Silica:

You reach out to Rossi, and feel her out there, somewhere.

Please go here, and ask her a question.

When you return...

A sharp sound brings you out of your reverie. It's the sound of a bullet clinking on a wood table. "There you go," Kwaito says smoothly. "Got it this time."

Wonky slugs back another drink and slurs, "Yeah... fucken nothin. Gonna burn it closed or can ya sew?"

"Well..." Kwaito says, peering over the wound. "It's too big for burning...." Kwaito looks over at you, silently asking if you'd sew it.

What do you do?

scott

Silica

I'm already feeling a little sick... the sound of the slug hitting the table sort of startles me out of my haze.

"What? What me?" they don't know who my father is... but I've probably seen him do stuff like this dozens of times. Not that I was trying to learn, he just wouldn't let me look away.

I take a step forward though... I know I know this... but....

"I don't... I don't know..." I look at Wonky, grimacing in pain, sweat on his forehead. In obvious pain.

But I'll do it... if he presses me at all I'll do it... shit.

Rich

To Silica:

Wonky looks over at you for a moment, catching your eyes. "You can do it. You won't hurt me." After a beat, he takes another gulp of the alcohol.

Kwaito hands you a roll of thread and a needle.

What do you do?

scott

Silica

I stand there frozen stupid for a second, then snap myself out of it and take the needle and thread... shit. Why do I feel compelled to do this?

I walk into the room and smell the blood. I'm not looking at the wound, but instead down at their feet.

"Do you... uh..." this is ironic, "do you have any salt?" I remember, saline... salty water is best to clean a wound. Fuck... fuck fuck.... fucking Father taught me. I grit my teeth and ball my other hand into a tight fist, trying not to let it show.

Rich

To Silica:

Kwaito heads over to one of his little crates, pulls out a box of Morton's Salt. Right there, on the front, sure enough, yellow coat girl. He hands it to you, completely unaware why you'd need it.

scott

Silica

This is so... so fucking weird.

The wound is oozing blood, I tell Kwaito to, "hold this on the wound... you know..." I fold up a strip of cloth for him to apply some pressure while I prepare.

So then I take the salt, find a cup or pail or bowl or something and fill it with water, pouring in a good handful of salt... mix mix mix... at least we never have a shortage of water.

I'm cursing quietly to myself the whole time, this thing is making me think of him... like really fucking think of him.

Finally I take the saline and walk over to Wonky, nod to Kwaito to remove the cloth... there's this huge knot in my stomach as I see the wound, "oh shit..." i try not to think, just rinse it out quickly with the saline, then take the fuckin' thread and get to work.

Rich

To Silica:

I'd like to see how well you psyche yourself up to do this, Silica. Give me an Act Under Fire.

scott

Sure. Acting under fire to sew up Wonky:
(Rolled: 2d6+1. Rolls: 6, 3. Total: 10)

scott

Silica

Ok, silica.... you got this... you got this...

Rich

To Silica:

You build up your courage, and yeah, it's pretty easy. You clean his wound, and he sucks in a breath but otherwise keeps quiet and steady. Then, you sew him up. Like it was natural. Easy peasey, lemon squeezy.

When you finish up, the wound isn't bleeding so much. Wonky is covered in sweat from the pain, but he eases up, looks back at you, nods, like "good job".

scott

Silica

Yeah this sucks... but I surprise myself, somehow I remember... push the needle through, pull the wound closed, tie... don't think about the blood. Fuck...

When I'm done I step back, breathing heavy, panicked breaths. My fingers are bloody... I immediately thrust them into the remaining water, rub them as clean as I can. Rosie is on my mind... maybe I should have stayed with 'em... then none of this shit...

Fuck, they have their own troubles.

"No big thing, Wonky... alright? I gotta... fuckin' lay down." I feel wobbly, and I return to the bedroom, holding my head in a hand, and sit wearily on the bed. My shoulder aches... funny how you forget that shit when you concentrate.

Rich

To Silica:

You head back and crash, the tension of the moment sucking the life out of you. Maybe you sleep, maybe you just lie there and wait for it. But eventually, there a ringing bell, sounds of people shuffling about, then some talking, low.

Nedd appears in the hall. He's got a big black bag. Looks alot like one your Dad had, but he joked about it. He didn't do house calls. Nedd comes in, Wonky is behind him, staying in the hall, but watching.

You see Nedd moving in slow, "Hey there, girl. You can't stay outta trouble, can ya?" He moves to sit on the bed beside you. "Lay down there, I need to look at yer shoulder a bit."

What do you do?

scott

Silica

I sit up with a start, who the fuck? I forgot the doc was coming. Holy shit that scared me...

I pull off my shirt so he can see my shoulder and hold it to my front, then lay back down on my stomach next to him. Little bit uncomfortable with this... I know this shit doesn't like me. Why did he even come?

Rich

To Silica:

He checks out the wound, makes a hiss when he sees it, "Damn, that looks nasty." It hurts when he probes around the edges of the wound. "So why'd you clean Wonky's wound and stitch him up, but leave this all torn up?"

Whether you answer or not, he reaches into his bag, starts cleaning the wound with something that burns like hell, bubbles up on the wound something fierce.

What do you do?

scott

Silica

I'm about to say something but then he puts that shit in the wound, "sonofabitch! I knew it... I hate that fuckin' stuff!" I slam a fist into the mattress a few times until the pain fades.

Couple seconds pass before I add, "Well I can't fuckin' stitch myself, can I?"

Rich

To Silica:

Nedd snickers, "Well, that answers the question if you're double-jointed then." He doctors you up, working quick, glancing over at Wonky, who is glaring at him. After maybe fifteen minutes, he puts a bandage on his handiwork and grunts as he stands up. "Done."

Wonky nods. "You alright, Silica?" I assume you are, right? He says to Nedd, "You can pick up some shrimp at Palmer's on me. We square?"

"Will be when I get my shrimp," Nedd answers with a dry laugh. "But I know you're good for it. You are, after all, a repeat customer." He heads on down the corridor to exit, "Good evenin'." Wonky follows him out.

After a moment, Kwaito comes up to the entryway. "Hey... you want another shirt?" He holds up a thin long-sleeved shirt, about your size. What's on the front of it that makes you reconsider your opinion of Kwaito a little?

scott

Silica

I gotta laugh, "you kiddin' me?" but I'm all smiles. "Yeah, I'll take it, man.. can't go walkin' round in this bloody mess."

The shirt looks something like this:


I get up to take the shirt and hold it up to me, seeing how it looks. It is about the right size, isn't it?

Cool.

Rich

To Silica:

Yeah. Kwaito turns away, giving you some privacy to change. "Just drop your old shirt. I'll strip it to use as rags or somethin."

I assume you don't object. Of course, the movement of taking off the shirt and putting this new one on suuuucks, but yeah, better than the bloody mess you had.

Wonky comes back around after you finish up. He looks at you, then Kwaito. "You gave her the owl shirt? Heh... looks good on you."

Kwaito looks a little exasperated, explains, "No, Silica, it aint like that. That was my sister's shirt. That's all."

Wonky waits a beat, then says, "You want me to take you to Rossi or somebody?" He still looks like hell, hasn't put on a shirt or anything.

scott

Silica

His sister? Everything I wear seems to be a hand me down from someone or fucking other... who am I kidding, everything in the world use to belong to someone else... nothin' new any more.

I answer Wonky, "Rossi? Fuck no I just came from her place.... but..." where do I belong? Kwaito being so fucking decent I forgot how pissed I am at Wonky. Shit.

I slip the shirt on and fall back on the bed on my ass.

"Mind if I crash here a couple days? K? Don't need to feed me or whatever... just need a place to crash."

I'm asking the man directly.

Rich

To Silica:

"You can stay here, Silica, rest up and shit. Don't have much food to spare, but we can figure it out." Kwaito says it all serious, maybe a tiny bit bashful.

Then Wonky punches his arm playfully, "Hah! Hell yeah, we're sticking around for a while, cuz." He walks into the room, sits beside you, Silica, then lays down. "You want the first shower, Silica?"

How's this go for you, Silica? Just spend a few days here, laying low? Gonna let Wonky think all's good and just move on?

scott

Silica

Look I don't have that many options right now. Sure yeah Wonky fucked up, ignored me and got us cut... won't fucking happen again. But there's at least two groups of uniformed fuckers looking for me on the streets and I'm hurtin more than I'm letting on.

Won't be the first time I kept my mouth shut rather than burn a bridge.... even if this particular bridge is rotten.

"I don't want a fuckin shower..." I flop back on the bed... I'm exhausted. Doin stitches... shit.

Rich

--END SCENE--