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Just a Kid, Napping
Topic Started: Dec 7 2010, 12:51 AM (3,432 Views)
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[ *  *  * ]
(Alice Boucher continued from A Moment Remembered)

Sarah had decided to go to the Residential District.

Alice supported this decision. Sitting there--in a house, in a room, maybe with a fireplace or a sunken leather chair--would make her feel clean. Real. She had never felt quite real in the wilderness. It wasn't a place she had gone much in her--

old life.

Odd to think of it like that.

I'm going to die on this island.

It could come through her thoughts now, with a clarity unclouded by horror. She was going to die, and soon. On this island. She would never see her Mama and Papa again.

Somehow it wasn't so fearsome anymore.

I guess I've seen much of what fearsome things there are to see.

That was a relief, she supposed. But mostly she just felt odd. Empty, but not in a bad way. Different.

I'm following around a half-mad sadist in her plot to murder the biggest serial killer on the island.

And I'm not doing it because I feel the need to redeem myself. I'm not going to. What I did was inexcusable, and nothing in this world or others is mad enough to say that one murder washes away another.

I don't know why I'm following her.


But she did know.

I'm following her because I'm protecting her.

Alice Boucher was no fine protector against serial killers, monsters, or sadists. Even with her newfound fearlessness, she wasn't a fighter. But damned if she couldn't protect Sarah Atwell--who seemed like a sweet girl, a sharp tack, and capable of doing more good than Alice ever would--from herself.

Somehow the surly French girl had ended up as Sarah Atwell's boon companion. Fancy that.

But when they wandered into the house, into a bedroom with a grotty mattress, Alice had sighed internally upon finding another person there. The boy was asleep. His name was--Tyler? He would probably wake up and start screaming as soon as he saw Sarah's face. This would all be very messy and unhelpful.

And then Sarah's hand reached for the blade.

No.

Alice didn't rush, didn't hesitate. She took hold of Sarah's wrist, gently. Firmly. Waited until Sarah turned, then looked her in the eyes. Don't regress on me.

Sarah nodded, and Alice let go of her hand. Somehow this was all natural to her. Funny, the rhythms we find.

Sarah went forward now, grasped the boy by the shoulders, and shook him. Presumably, she was about to pump him for info on Maxwell Lombardi. Alice winced a little, anticipating terrified screams.

"Hey, hey. Wake up." Sarah said.

And Tyler Franklin opened his eyes.
--------


Alice Boucher was a liar.
Liz Polanski played with fire.

And who the hell is Radio Asuka?
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[ *  *  * ]
Another girl was climbing through the window. Annaliese Hansen. She read horoscopes or something. Alice had never been enough of a morning person to believe in horoscopes. In school, the girl had seemed flighty and only passably sane.

But she wasn't on the announcements, at least, so that was a relief.

"Hola peoples. Is it okay if I hang out with you guys for awhile?"

No, please.

The last thing this situation needed was another person. Alice could see Sarah's wrist twitching. I need to get that scalpel out of her hand.

The boy on the grotty mattress was looking way too calm and laid-back. Stupid boy. Don't you observe anything?

"Tyler." Sarah said, breathing deep. "Have you seen Maxwell anywhere? I need to... discuss something with him." Turning to Annaliese as she clambered through the window, "You too. We're not looking to hurt anyone here, we just need to find Maxwell."

And Alice, watching Sarah's hand, watching the scalpel, saw it twitch toward the window, toward Annalise's throat. Oh no. We are not going through this again.

No more blood. No more sorrow.

The girl was talking. Annaliese. And Tyler was talking. Talking about Maxwell. And--and--they wanted to join them. Join? No way. Not safe for these people. If Sarah was going to go crazy, she was going to go crazy on Alice, not on two stupid bints who just happened to be along for a ride. She would have to talk them out of any ideas about joining. Ugh. People could be so oblivious sometimes.

Sarah's wrist was twitching. Alice's hands were trembling. She stiffened them. No more, no more.

"Sarah," she said softly. "Don't wave the scalpel around."

Say it like that. Like everything's under control. Don't scare these good people.

But now Alice, now Alice had to do something brave. Clutch Sarah's moist fingers in her own. Meet Sarah's eyes. Keep them. Don't flip out on me. I know what I'm doing. Pull at the scalpel. Feel Sarah's fingers tighten. Keep her own hand rigid. I don't want you to kill me now. Please do what I want you to do. Wincing internally when even her thoughts were stiff. Alice, it turned out, was still afraid of being stabbed by her erstwhile partner.

Oh, you stupid girl. Don't act like you were ever unafraid. Someone had once told her that it took only a pound of pressure to break human flesh.

She could hear Sarah's heart beat.

And suddenly Sarah released the scalpel, an imperceptible sigh, a defeat, a relief. An ugly nick on Alice's hand for the trouble. Heartbeat, Alice's own now, slowing, and Sarah's slowing in time, and now Alice held the scalpel, clutched in a white-knuckled hand. Slipped it in her pocket.

Yes. And breathe.

And Annaliese and Tyler hadn't noticed anything at all.
--------


Alice Boucher was a liar.
Liz Polanski played with fire.

And who the hell is Radio Asuka?
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[ *  *  * ]
Oh heavens. And now they were supposed to explain what they'd do once they found Maxwell Lombardi, as if that wasn't obvious. At least Annaliese seemed to be catching that something strange was going on. She was trying to leave. Leave. Leave!

But Tyler was a problem. He was dense as a brick, it seemed, and more than likely to get himself killed. Americans. Always thinking everything's safe and easy.

She hadn't met anyone who fit her stereotype of an American in a long time. The bloody heuristic seemed to be breaking down, on psychotic island, no less.

Papa would probably be proud. Though I suppose it's a bit late for that.

Anyway, now it was time to try and prevent Tyler from becoming the victim of a horrible murder.

"I don't--you needn't come with us." Alice started, to Annaliese and Tyler, Tyler in particular. "The problem is, we've got his medications. Which we shouldn't have. He ought to have them. And now he's got some rubbish like paranoid delusions going on, and I think it would be best for the island if he went back on his medication again." You can say that one more time. "Sarah knows him right well, so I can't imagine he'd murder her right off the bat. But the more people come with us, the more uncertain it's probably going to get." Be a good lie, be a good lie. "So if you don't know where he is, we'd best be on our way."

She motioned to Sarah, more tensely than she wished to. I shouldn't keep you around people for long. Let's go.

She didn't like that kind of thought. But all of this was really rather scary.
--------


Alice Boucher was a liar.
Liz Polanski played with fire.

And who the hell is Radio Asuka?
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[ *  *  * ]
Sarah was a little disappointed that Alice seemed to have driven the girl away--she'd looked uneasy, and then stepped back out the window, and that was that. But damn. Tyler though, was being rude. He clearly thought they were lesbians. Sarah resisted the temptation to break into giggles.

Yup. No Maxwell, and no clues. We're outta here.

She winked baldly at Tyler, who seemed to be trying to stifle laughter himself. Hmm. Not having a scalpel is actually curbing my fantasies of giving this guy a horrible death. Maybe she was just saving her juice up for Maxwell.

Still, if she invited Tyler along…

Alice raised an eyebrow at her. Mouthed a word. Redemption.

Right. Redemption. And a shiver up her fingers as she remembered Chris Carlson, dead.

Inviting Tyler along was a bad idea.

Putting on her chipper voice, she spoke to Tyler. "Yeah, I guess Alice is right. She and I have a handle on this. Just need to give him his meds."

"And we have all the weaponry we need if he goes crazy." Alice added.

Tyler nodded. Dumbly. What a brick.

So Sarah turned to the door, chipper and purposeful still, scanned the house for any weapons lying around (maybe there was something left out?) and let Alice lead her towards the exit.

Hasta la vista, baby.

And they were out of the house, and Alice was, she could see, shuddering. A little clammy. Had Sarah really taken that much out of her? Oh, that was bad.

Then Alice looked up at her, fixed her with something between disbelief and a glare. "Did they think we were lesbians or something?" she asked.

Alice obviously wanted the answer to be 'no', in her shocked, disbelieved, prudish French way. And Sarah couldn't resist tweaking her with the truth.

"Yes. Yes they did. It's not so surprising, isn't it?"

(Sarah Atwell and Alice Boucher continued elsewhere)
--------


Alice Boucher was a liar.
Liz Polanski played with fire.

And who the hell is Radio Asuka?
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