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The Long Road Home; semi-private; PM to join
Topic Started: Nov 23 2010, 12:04 AM (3,639 Views)
Rocky
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They see me walking, they hating
[ *  *  *  *  * ]
((All GMing of all characters involved in the following post is approved (and for the most part written by the handler))

((Sarah Xu, Bridget Connolly, Örn “Dutchy” Ayers, Kimberly Nguyen, and Roland Hayes continued from Dimer))

It didn't take long for Sarah and Dutchy to catch up with the rest of the group, the others had fortunately decided to wait for them nearby. A few hours of hiking through the forest later and she could once again hear the ocean, they'd given the infirmary a very, very wide berth and the sound of the waves crashing against the cliffs was reassuring. By the time they were out in the open it had to be at least 10 o'clock, the trees were becoming more sparse as they approached the town, though the grass only got longer. Ahead of them a semicircle of houses and disused docks occupied the depression between them and the steep rise on the other side.

Ploughing through the sea of grass they soon reached the first street. The vegetation ended abruptly, with a short drop from the loam to the gravelly impression before the asphalt began. Sarah took it first, landing heavily. She stepped to the side as Bridget handily jumped down. She took a step forward to help Kimberly down, but she'd refused it almost before Sarah offered. Dutchy and Roland soon followed, and they began to make their way down the street.

A little way down the road they came to a suitable looking two story house, one of the larger ones in the street, slightly raised, a sturdy brick fence surrounding it. The door was slightly ajar, but after a few nervous shouts of "Hello? Is anyone in there?" Sarah beckoned the others inside.

They dropped their bags in the living room, Dutchy laid down on a couch and some of them decided to take a moment to sit and rest. Sarah and Bridget were soon up the stairs though, making sure the group really was alone, and checking that it really was an appropriate place to stay. The two girls methodically searched the house, taking note of the amount of rooms and exits, in case someone decided to ambush them through the night or something. Once the search of the upper floor was completed, The two girls stood at the top of the stairway.

"Everything looks to be good. We should be fine." Bridget said, a small smile of relief crossing her face.

"There's just one problem." Sarah responded.
"What's that?"
"There's only four beds."
"I can see how that's a problem."
"Well, there's a double, if you don't mind sharing."
"Not at all."
"Then that's that problem solved."

When you go travelling in a family of five, you got used to sharing beds at every second hotel, or crawling into the parents bedroom during a storm only to find it occupied by everyone already.

They searched the rest of the house. The former occupants seemed to have taken anything of value, monetary or sentimental. The drawers were empty, the fridge was empty, there was a flask of table salt in one of the cupboards, some dishwashing fluid under the sink, nothing worth taking. Outside the kitchen window, Sarah spotted an old shed in the back. She went out back, Bridget following close by.

The sliding shed door refused to open, clogged and jammed with grime and rust. They pulled and pushed and eventually it gave with a screech. More screeching, more pulling, and it finally stood open.

And inside was kind of a huge pile of crap. She swiped away a curtain of rotting cobwebs before stepping inside. A few tubs of paint, a couple of spades, a hammer or two, a selection of screwdrivers and some boxes of screws and nails and bits and pieces. It wasn't much, but they could use some of the stuff in here. A hammer, while not a good weapon by any stretch, sure as hell beat just your fists.The two gathered up some of the equipment, placing the hammers, a couple screw drivers, and nails into a small wooden box on the ground before returning to the house.

And so, the group was alone in the house. Without the fear of being attacked, at least not without fair warning, Sarah decided that it was time to tell the others about her plan. The only problem being how. If Danya and his goons caught wind of what they were planning, then it would be a very short plan. They could write it down, but that would be tedious, not to mention impossible during the darker hours. Perhaps just passing her notebook around would suffice, although judging from Bridget's reaction, she would have to end up explaining something to someone. Well, might as well start now.

------
((Many, Many Hours Later))


There it was. Cards on the table. Kimberly fidgeted in her seat, scratched an itch on her neck, and watched the others plan. From what she'd seen, well, maybe they stood a chance. Maybe. Most likely, though, they were all fucked, were all gonna die horrible, bloody deaths, to decapitation or worse. That was, quite simply, something Kimberly wanted no part of.

She liked them all. Well, not really, for the most part they pissed her off, with their offers of help and their optimism and their not-so-subtle objections to letting her spend some quality time with a tied-up Kris Hartmann and nothing but a lighter, a pack of cigarettes, and a two-by-four for company, but hey, she felt at least a little affection for them. They had saved her life and shit, and Dutchy hadn't even spilled her secret yet.

But no amount of affection would be sufficient for her to follow them to their dooms. It wasn't that she was afraid of dying. She was, she certainly was, but that was more of a reason to try anything, to scramble desperately after every last lead. No, what stopped Kimberly from wanting to join in this optimistic idiocy was the terrible fear that she'd be wasting her time. They'd try, and they'd die, and it wouldn't be any different than if they'd died playing, or hiding, or saving lives, or whatever the fuck they could have done. Like, say, tracking down Kris and extracting some measure of vengeful satisfaction.

That was it. Kimberly was going to die. So were Sarah and Dutchy and Roland and Bridget. The difference was, Kimberly was going to die doing what she wanted to do.

She looked around. Her stuff was still packed. Good. Time to get a move on.

Back at school, Kimberly had been known for stalking off in the middle of arguments, the second she lost interest. Now, though, she felt like she could at least spare a moment of explanation for her erstwhile companions.

"Hey, guys," she began. "Good luck and all. I wish you the best, really. I just think you're fucked."

Lay it all on the table. No point easing in gently.

"More than that, what you're trying to do, well, it's not what I want. We're all going to die here. We all know that. I was pretty damn straight with you about what I want to do before then. That hasn't changed.

"So, yeah, good luck. I hope you make it. I really do. And, hey, maybe later I'll have nothing better to do.

"Listen to the announcements. You'll hear my name sooner or later. The context'll probably tell you if I'll be coming back to help or... not."

That was all that had to be said. Kimberly gathered her things and started out the door, heedless of any protest. She'd made her choice. No going back. No being coddled or protected. She could do this.

Right outside the entrance, she paused for a moment, turned back. Smiled at them all, shot them a wink.

"Catch you later."

And with that, she was gone.

((Kimberly Nguyen continued in But I Might Die Tonight))
G068 Chan, Yuan Stephanie
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