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Viewing Single Post From: Time steals us all away one day, does it not?
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((Wayne Cox continued from AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH))

"A view to kill for, huh." Wayne hooked his fingers through the diamond-shaped fence links and stared out to sea. "That's a bad turn of phrase if I've ever heard one."

It'd been a long walk. Nothing but small talk from him. One foot in front of the other. He'd considered ditching them more than a couple of times, especially when they ended up going north again, skirting far too close to the beach for his liking. He wasn't under any obligation to stay - in fact, he was more of a tagalong, a third wheel here than anything else. He was the first one that would be sacrificed when things got tough.

But he hadn't been thinking about that too much. He almost wished he had; at least that was living in the present, in the future, rather than the past.

Instead, the same thoughts had caught up to him again, and he'd had plenty of time to mull over what he'd done back at the beach.

Theft. Robbery. Mugging. He could call it what he wanted. None of them were good things. He could justify it if he tried. Just self-preservation, which was, at face value, pure and simple.

If he'd thought about it - and he had thought about it, as they had climbed the slopes and passed buildings to get here - the second best thing that could happen to them all was simple, too. The best was a miraculous rescue. A pipe dream, if ever he'd had cause to dream. The second best was simply getting someone who was worth it out of this place alive.

Wasn't that what the terrorists called it, what this whole thing stood for? Even if it was cruel and unusual, even if they all deserved not to be thrown into something like this... wasn't it still better if someone who was "fittest" survived?

Someone who could speak out against this, someone who could cope afterwards. Someone who could make the most of their life.

Not someone like him.

Looking at the expanse of water in front of him, he wondered if he was looking in the direction of home.
The Present

The Past
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Time steals us all away one day, does it not? · Northwest Cliffs