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The Gully
Topic Started: Feb 22 2011, 05:33 PM (4,977 Views)
Brackie
Member Avatar
i love him, i love him, i love him, i love him
[ *  *  *  *  *  * ]
And it was as soon as the girl left Brendan realised why he was doing this for her.

It was 3 months after he arrived at Bayview. He'd just broken the heart of one of the kindest most beautiful people in the world, and, well, he was feeling rather down. But you can't really blare that to the world when you don't have any friends outside of clubs. You suffer silently, your performance plummets, and you become late for Mr. Kwong's math class.

They were working on a project. Maths project. He'd never done one before, and everyone else had already been paired up. All except one person. Kwongy paired him with Liz Polanski, a goth girl. Short goth girl.

She...wasn't like him at all. She wasn't even sure if she did like him, not like he cared. Remember, when you're a loner, you don't really care for impressing people. But they worked, they chatted every so often, and Brendan was so oblivious to the eyes of one of his classmates, who was looking over at Liz and him with a combination of contempt and jealousy. Mainly Liz.

A few days later, he was cutting down behind the school to get to his class quicker. If it was on the other side of the school, then was definitely quicker to go around rather than bumble through the crowds of students. He didn't see the guy following him, grabbing him and throwing him against the brick wall. He didn't see the knife.

But he saw everything afterwards. The snarling. He had something against her. Or he wanted her. It was something, he could barely remember. He never really found out what he wanted, only that he was grateful when the girl appeared suddenly behind him and hit him over the head with a discarded beer bottle.

He never bled. But he was furious. Brendan never questioned what happened, or what was going on, he only fled to his next class, silently and not answering the teacher when she asked why he was late. English wasn't meant for truthful answers.

But he knew that this strange goth girl had done him a massive favour. She'd essentially saved his life. He never found out how she knew the guy with the knife, or how the guy with the knife knew her, or even how he knew him, but he didn't question it. There was plenty of time to write up new theories on how it all went down behind the scenes later. The important thing was that Liz showed up for second period Maths, safe and sound.

They worked silently from there in.

Silence ran good with Liz Polanski.

Her scribbled notes were still clasped in his hands as her hair, then her clothing, then her skin, blended into the inky darkness of the cave. She was gone now. With his gun. He had his own gun now. 12 bullets was it?

12 to 50.

It wasn't like he was going to use them anyway.

He knew Liz was a smart girl. She was spectacular on that one and only project they shared, but he was never paired with her again. Liz was smart, smarter at the things he never could be. She had a plan. She'd thought it over. She'd taken every single risk, and now it was paying off. Brendan was part of her life once more, and he'd returned the favour. He'd done what no one else could.

DIDN'T THINK I'D HAVE PEOPLE I'D CARE ABOUT UNTIL UNIVERSITY.

And the best part was that he'd done something that made him famous. Someone cared about him, people would remember him, people would know his name. In this whole fucking game, of which almost half his friends, classmates, acquaintances, they were all gone, he would be remembered outside of the people who loved him.

He'd helped make something worthwhile.

A few seconds of silence after Liz disappeared. He'd thought it over.

Helpful.

Make something worthwhile.

Brendan zipped open his bag again. There lay the gun she gave him. 12 bullets for 50 bullets. Not a fair trade, but so damn worth it. He picked up the gun in his hands, and slid it in. Way too familiar.

"Okay. Tell me what I need to do."
Posted ImagePosted ImagePosted ImagePosted ImagePosted Image
Posted ImagePosted ImagePosted ImagePosted ImagePosted Image

I can't sing but I wrote you a song

Wrong notes but the melody's so clear

When I'm lost, I'm still close to gold

cause I found my treasure in you
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Brackie
Member Avatar
i love him, i love him, i love him, i love him
[ *  *  *  *  *  * ]
They all acted with confidence. Rationality. At least they knew what they were doing, unlike him. He'd really only wandered into the whole thing, so it wasn't that much of a leap to say that he didn't belong here. He watched them, Mirabelle then Garrett then Jeremy, wander into the tunnel only a few moments after her. And he was left out there, alone.

Brendan'd been thinking it over. A lot. He had the only gun in the entire group, outside of what Liz had. He was basically...well, the guns of the group. But what did it really mean for him? He'd just be able to kill. But not just anyone, if push came to shove, he'd have to shoot of the death squad, right? Could he...really do that?

...I don't want to find out. I never hope I have to find out. If it goes to plan, then...Liz won't die. Liz won't have to die. She won't. Die. Never.

He watches the murky dark tunnel seep around, adjusting to the light. Morphing. Moving. God, don't think about that. If you go in there, you're a rat running around blindly, but if you're out here...then, well, you're a stone gollum, stopping anyone from crossing your path.

Anyone.

That means anyone.

Brendan took a deep breath, and scratched the back of his head. Still facing the cave. Deliberating whether to enter.

Fate made that decision for him, a long time ago it seemed.

"Guys..."

He whirled around on the spot.

"Carla?"

It was her, Carla Conners, that cheerleader. Cheerleader, what the hell, summing up a girl he barely even knew in so few words. But whatever her past, whoever she was, she was providing them with a hell of a good information. That, or hell of a bad turning to freaking worse information.

They were coming.

That's all that went through his mind before there was a loud bang, a fine spray of blood that coated his front, and Carla the cheerleader becoming no more.

He stepped back instinctively. Millions of emotions swamped his brain, all trying to battle each other out. Relief, despair, anger, sadness, flight, fight, vengance, EVERYTHING. This was a new experience, something he hoped he'd never have to face. Again, someone died in front of him. Again, he wanted to hurl, the fine coat of blood sprayed across his front fueling these senses and scents like the copper catalyst it was, again he wanted to grieve, but the moment Carla's body fell to the ground, her words struck their meaning.

It was them.

The death squad.

They were literally seconds away. Close enough to possibly kill him as he gaped at the dead body. Every instinct in his body screamed.

Run.

Run.

Run.

Run.

Run.

Run. Run.

Run. Run.

Run. Run.

Run. Run.

Run. Run.

Run. Run.

Run. Run.

Run. Run.

Run. Run.

Run. Run.

Run. Run.

Run. Run.

Run. Run.

RUN.

RUN.

RUN.

RUN.

RUN.

RUN.


He didn't even realised he'd done it. He'd swooped down to Carla's body, and began rifling through her bag. Again, disgracing the dead, again not even trying to pay any mind to the people watching back home. He was doing this as blind as a bat, still on the lookout for the coming storm. They could have been right there.

His hands felt an ammo box. Paper. He knew what this meant now, a gun. Third time he'd done it, third time he'd disgraced a body by taking its belongings. Third time. He felt around more, skin touching metal, steel. Brendan yanked it out. A gun. He had two now. Two guns.

What the hell was he going to do with two guns? If a squad to kill him was really coming, he needed a fucking rocket launcher! But Brendan didn't have time to think about that.

He looked back, back to where she came from.






There they were.

Brendan's heart jumped up to his chest and floundered. ThumpthumpthumpthumpthumpthumpthumpthumpthumpthumpthumpthumpthumpthumpthumpTHUMP.
The primal urges beckoned him to shoot. Kill them. They put you here. He resisted. He couldn't do anything except clench the two guns in his hands, and slowly back away. Slowly.
He went so slow it seemed like they'd overtake him.

His eyes caught one of them. He looked old. Moustache. Bald.

....what? I know him!

*~*

"-and there was Pandaemonium everywhere!" Chase exclaimed, already starting to giggle at her own little joke. Brendan had to let out a sigh. He'd heard that joke already about 10 times in his old science class, it was really already starting to get old. Well, it was one of the folleys of sitting next to a girl who was as bright and exuberant as Chase. She always liked making jokes.

"Chase, I think he needs to drive the bus or something, you might make him careen off the road if you make him laugh too much." Brendan commented to the goth girl sitting next to him, at least forcing a chuckle. It was that kind of joke he always fumbled, didn't remember the words correctly. She seemed to stop for a moment, almost as if she were considering what would happen if the bus careened off the road. He shook his head and laughed.

"Okay, I'm feeling a bit tired, so you just...keep talking to him I suppose, and I'm gonna nod off, okay?" Brendan said to Chase. He leaned his head against the window, before taking a look at two things that floated in front of his mind before he started to get heavy headed.

Is that...that's a nice necklace, wonder where she got that...

That's...a nice mask that guy has, I wonder what's it's for..

for...

for...

zzzzzzzzzzzzz.

*~*


It was him.

The bus driver.

He recognized that face, that head, anywhere.

And...he was the one who delivered the whole class to the terrorists.

He was the one who made occasional sarcastic jokes while noting the safety mechanisms of the bus.

He was the one who chuckled at Chase's jokes while he knowingly delivered that little girl, his best friend, to her death.

Brendan was still backing towards the cave, but his guns were both clenched tightly in his hands, aimed right at the upcoming group. But they had guns too. They had much worse than he could ever get.

His back-tracing steps almost stumbled over Carla's corpse. He avoided that grisly fate. He went around. Every little step brought him closer to the cave, while every tiny step only brought him closer to death...

Soon he was there. The darkness parallel. He stood there, breathing. There was an anger rising inside of him. He wanted to kill them.

A new decision popped up.

Run.

Shoot.

Run.

Shoot.

Run.

Shoot.

Run.

Shoot.

Run.

Shoot.

Run. Shoot.

Run. Shoot.

Run. Shoot.


He could hear one of them speaking. Were they speaking to him? He didn't care. He was only this close away from possible safety, or death. He didn't know what to choose.

Brendan turned his head towards the bald one. He had no idea whether their eyes met, he was too busy trying to shuffle into the cave.

"Three scientists work in a lab. The first one adds sodium sulfate to chlorine, and creates sodium chloride."

Run. Shoot.

"The second one adds a combination of sulfur to a magnesium compound, and creates Magnesium Sulfate."

Run. Shoot.

Run. Shoot.

Run....shoot...

"The last one adds a panda to a spread of ammonium-"

Run....

"-and there was Pandaemonium everywhere."

RUN!

He squeezed the trigger on his left finger. It wasn't aimed at them, they must have known that. He aimed it at the sky, above the terrorists. His flight instinct told him that he shouldn't be killing them. They detonated Carla's collar. She wasn't even a threat to them. If he shot one of them, it was all over. The bullet wasn't even meant for them. It was for himself.

Brendan bolted inside the cave.

"THEY'RE HERE!"
Edited by Brackie, Mar 6 2011, 12:26 AM.
Posted ImagePosted ImagePosted ImagePosted ImagePosted Image
Posted ImagePosted ImagePosted ImagePosted ImagePosted Image

I can't sing but I wrote you a song

Wrong notes but the melody's so clear

When I'm lost, I'm still close to gold

cause I found my treasure in you
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
Brackie
Member Avatar
i love him, i love him, i love him, i love him
[ *  *  *  *  *  * ]
An eternity passed as he tried to run. They would have been right behind him, and Brendan would never know. He'd feel the piping hot slug of metal rush through his head and decorate the cave wall, and that would be it.

Every step was turning into agony, and he knew why. The stitches on his leg, he could feel them tearing through the skin, and it fucking hurt. The copper smell residing under his nose would need a lot to compensate.

The darkness whipped past Brendan's face, and soon there came a fork. Two paths. He had no clue how fast they were moving, or how far they'd gone, but...he couldn't speak to them in person ever again, really. If he took the wrong path, they'd be gone forever, and they'd not know what was coming. Of course, they knew the basics, but he had to let them know what the consequences of their heroics were. Brendan wanted to be a hero, just wanted to save Liz, help her, get off this rock with as many people as possible, but if he did that now, he knew that realistic consequences faced him. Collar explosion. Death. Imminent death.

He took a giant breathe, then yelled as loud as he could.

"GUYS, RUN! THEY CAN BLOW OUR COLLARS ANY TIME THEY LIKE! THEY KILLED CARLA CONNERS RIGHT THERE, THEY CAN KILL YOU IF YOU DON'T GET OUT OF HERE! MIRABELLE, JEREMY, GARRETT, GET! THE FUCK! OUT! NOW!"

Liz still had a chance. The variables were jumping up and down the scale like a hyperactive child, but...Liz had a chance. Her chances decreased with every person not there to help her, but every person who helped her faced imminent death. But whoever fled had a chance of living. If...if Liz lived, then they would definitely live. They'd get a way to get the collars off, find escape. This school was a smart school. If a girl like Liz Polanski, who dealt drugs, played baseball, beat him of all people at Math, could pull off something like this, then who knows what else his peers had come up with?

He hazarded a guess as he yelled into the pitch black. The caves echoed with his voice, there was almost no way to tell if they heard him or just a cacophony of sound. They had to hear him. Please.

Noises popped up behind him, it sounded horrifically like crunching gravel. Brendan didn't care where he was going anymore, he just picked a direction and stretched himself into the unknown.

C'mon, they're this way, I have to be going the right way, I better be going the right fucking way...

((But alas, Brendan Wallace unintentionally continues in Peripeteia...))

If I can't save Liz and escape...
What do I have left to live for?
Posted ImagePosted ImagePosted ImagePosted ImagePosted Image
Posted ImagePosted ImagePosted ImagePosted ImagePosted Image

I can't sing but I wrote you a song

Wrong notes but the melody's so clear

When I'm lost, I'm still close to gold

cause I found my treasure in you
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
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