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Cicada Days
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keep running yoshi
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((Ben Fields continued from Good Omens))

Ben looked like hell, especially the pits. Not much perspiration on the run, yet, but he took no pride in that. Problem was, it was like the old ‘spastically skip rope with your own two left feet’ routine for Ben. Running after guys like a fag, and nothing to show for it but a crushed bag of chipotle. That was all the problem. Here and now, it was time for the solution.

He’d been leery of the bridge, and of the tall buildings and wide open spaces beyond. Had half jumped when the bell had suddenly rung again. Like once wasn't enough and they were tying to start a damn cookout over there. He was leery of approaching the tower, and caution was a fair call from the playbook. Same old shit. Headbob left and right like he was the six year old crossing the street for the first time. Extra times each way, to be sure. Nobody around, though he occasionally swore he caught a whiff of a body and a gun. Nobody and nothing to see when he double checked. Just trees and grasses untrimmed since post the dawn of civilization.

His feet were beginning to canker and cramp up. Not so bad, but Ben still wanted to assume conserving energy meant something. No baseball field for miles in the thousands, but he needed himself a dugout. Had to be benches in that big ass building that was apparently the asylum, the heir apparent to the island. Had to be bodies too. Hopefully still like him, still warm and breathing. Still thinking and praying. One up to you, guy in the sky. He'd thrown ‘em all a curveball, these one hundred whatever assholes who had put themselves on buses to say ‘we who are about to die’. However that went in Latin, Ben couldn’t recall that one.

Halls and stairs were quiet. Nothing moved except him, even as his collective six senses told him there were a hundred shadows and a hundred rats and a hundred undead around every corner. Jerry Fury eat your dumbass heart out. Personally he was beginning to really get sick of all the adrenaline. Every few fucking minutes there was something for his heart to beat itself into submission with. Cameras up and down his ass too. Kept scrolling over him as he passed by.

Here, this looked like a good spot. Second floor, some kinda dark room with the doors ajar as if folk had been by recently. Ben advanced in, foraged for the lights all slow as molasses. Trip hazards, sharp objects, attracting unwanted attention. Lights... still off. Shit, no power.

Most of the doors were shut, and he quietly shut the sole open left one to give himself a moment’s warning if yet something else was on his ass. Stayed near it so a little light from outside could stream in. He cleared a little space on a shelf. Tested it a bit, shrugged off the subsequent wobble and flex from the metal sheet. Sat his ass down, right in front of a red-dot-in-the-darkness camera casually playing voyeur. Yep, take a look. Ben Fields, right here. The dude who was feeling a little bit of bigass weight on his shoulders that he was sure drooped them all unattractive-like. Shit like confidence was worn easy, was fashionable. This shit he had on right now? Probably dug up from a dumpster somewhere, the sort you found the homeless and prom babies in.

Alright. Clear it all, all those words he’d said for the cameras. Find new ones, better ones. And put his goddamn shoulders back up on the shelf where they belonged.

“Yo. Mom. Lana…” Hard to keep his chin up. But he kept his gaze right on that camera, and every pair of eyes that lay beyond. The two pairs he did cared about. “I… heh, fuck. Eh. Sorry ‘bout the cussing mom.” The breathy chuckle was forced, didn’t take an Enigma decode to intuit that one. “This ain’t some easy stuff for me to say. You both know it how it is. Really don't talk right unless the two of you are around…”

B036 : Benjamin 'Ben' Fields
Start


Ben drew a breath. Maybe he needed it, maybe he didn’t. What was it they had said about those broadcasts years ago? That they were released on a delay?

In his resting place it was only himself and the audience he didn’t have.
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