"We tried to be better, but we aren't. I don't think anyone could last more than a week here if they weren't willing to do bad things." - Alba Reyes

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((Clarice Halwood continued from Why We Fight.))

People did follow her. Clarice didn’t know if that was smart of them, but she wasn’t going to say no. Maybe it was even good, to be accompanied by people she didn’t have mixed feelings for right now.

Now, if only she knew what the fuck she was doing.

She was just wandering around, if she was totally honest. Wandering around in a way that suggested purpose. And she had a purpose, she just... couldn't figure out the method.

They'd stopped for the night and taken turns keeping watch. Clarice hadn't spent most of that time sleeping. She'd just laid there and stared at the sky, and tried to figure out what to do.

She'd had some bizarre temporary notion that the radio tower might help, so once the announcements had played she'd started to head towards there. Insisting that it could help, perhaps. Or that it was a good a start as any. She didn’t have much hope that they’d work. The terrorists wouldn’t be that stupid. Even so, her brain just kept tickling. She felt like there was a solution on the tip of her tongue, she just couldn't quite find it.

The announcements were a distraction. Kimiko had murdered again. And not just anyone. She’d murdered Caleb, someone that was a friend of hers. That just didn’t… it didn’t mix with what had happened yesterday. Or had Kimiko only not taken the chance to kill Clarice because she’d been outnumbered and outgunned?

“What are you doing?” Clarice had muttered to herself.

And now her brain was all off-kilter again. Shit. It didn’t matter. Well, it did. But Clarice couldn’t be thinking of that now. Was it because of that focus that the rest of the announcements didn’t sting as much as the prior days? Or was that just the fifth stage of grief?

The announcements faded, and they approached the radio tower. It was safe now. Clarice just walked in without asking the others to fiddle with the control panel. She wasn't really sure if they said anything about the announcements. It was a struggle to focus. She felt warm, for some reason. Slightly light-headed. Sweat trickling down her face. She dismissed it as after-effects of the rain and lack of sleep, and ignored the persistent itch in the axe wound in her shoulder.
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If It Bleeds, It Leads · The Radio Tower