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Clarice clung back. Okay. Conrad was still Conrad, he hadn't flipped his shit entirely. That was something. After squeezing him tightly for a moment she loosened her hold a little.

“Sucks, huh?”

Understatement of the century. God, this more than sucked. Her and Conrad and… jesus, was Scout here, too? Which of her friends were? Which had stayed behind? Her mind lagged a little. She couldn't remember who had and hadn't been on the trip.

“Well, we couldn't have known. It's bullshit, though.”

Clarice let go and moved out of the hug before Conrad. She needed to move. As comforting as a hug could be, staying still—trapped—right now made her uneasy.

She shook her hands as she paced about, like she was drying them. Just so she could do something with them. It still didn't feel quite real, like she'd wake up any second now. Fuck. Moving back and forth past the barbed wire.

Something glinted in the light nearby. A camera at the base of part of the fence, blending into the metallic background, the sunlight shining off it. Clarice stared at it for a moment, then looked away. Sick fucks.

She had the overpowering urge, for a split second, to just… kick the camera. Smash that stupid glass in. Those sick fucks, using such an amazing medium such as film for such a fucking disgusting purpose. If she'd already been holding a weapon, she really might have smashed the camera to pieces.

But in the time it took her to pull her foot back she came to her senses. Remembered the rules. Death might be inevitable, but that was just senseless. Instead, she did a weird, awkward little hop, put her foot back down and turned back to Conrad.

“Yeah, I don't have a fucking clue.”
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The Calm Before the Storm · Northwest Cliffs