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Act II, Scene I; open, day 4 5 pm
Topic Started: Jan 22 2017, 02:56 PM (452 Views)
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(Hannah Kendrickstone continued from Bread Suit)

Hannah had been trying to make a full circle around the island. That would be the best way to find Irene and Olivia. They could be anywhere, so she had to look everywhere. It hadn't worked. She hadn't seen anyone since she'd met Junko the day before. The announcements hadn't mentioned Tara dying, so as she had walked across the slopes, she'd had to wonder if Junko had been lying. She hadn't said how much she'd burned herself, but Hannah was still worried by it all.

Not that traveling across the dangerous slopes that separated the northeast part of the island from the southern part she was trying to go to had been smart. She'd rolled her ankle and fallen down a slope slick from the mud and the rain. She'd hit her head on a sharp rock, and the gash had just been bled and bled. She'd just lied there for a moment, crying, before she screamed and screamed at frustration and pain at the whole situation. She wasn't sure how long it had been before the screaming had changed to whimpering and she'd eventually tried to help herself. Luckily if anyone had heard they hadn't decided to find her and kill her.

She'd taken some painkillers, but her ankle even now still throbbed and her throat was still hoarse from when she'd screamed for awhile in pain and frustration. She'd bandaged the gash on her forehead, but she didn't think it helped much. She was worried that the rain would damage it and then she'd have to patch herself up again. The now slightly reddened brim of the baseball cap helped keep it dry a little, but occasionally the wind would shift and she'd be getting rain on it again.

She was almost to the building. It had taken her forever. Hannah even on the best of days wasn't in the best shape to hike across a deserted island, her injured ankle, the lack of sleep, and the fact that she was barely eating hardly helped things. When she'd tried to eat some of the bread, it had felt like glue in her mouth, and it'd taken a minute of chewing before she could get herself to swallow any of it.

She hated it all. She hated the terrorists who dropped her here with her classmates. She hated herself a little for being such a failure at finding her friends. Secretly, she was starting to hate Irene a little bit for running off, but she always tried to distract herself when that thought came up. Irene had probably just been scared. They'd all been scared by the body.

She reached the building. It looked solid, but what really interested here was the helicopter on top. For whatever reason seeing it reminded her of the police helicopter in the Baz Luhrmann adaptation of Romeo + Juliet. The modernization of the setting had been a twist, but she'd checked, and despite that it had done an amazing job of matching the dialogue and stage directions of the original play. She wouldn't want to see all of The Bard's plays adapted that way, like the attempt to do the same thing with Hamlet, but that time it worked.

She ignored the nearby corpse as she went inside to find the stairs up. The body was obviously male, so it couldn't be anyone she was looking for. It also had way too much gore, like a bad horror movie.

The pain in her ankle increased as she took the stairs up. The effort of lifting it up rather than just walking on the relatively flat land near the storehouse was more painful. She briefly considered not climbing, but she had to see that helicopter. Maybe she could tell if there were any groups nearby that looked friendly. She probably needed some help.

Her breathing got heavier as she reached the top, and she let out a cry of pain, and hot tears went down her face until they reached the scarf that was still wrapped around her lower face.

She took slow weak steps out onto the helipad.

She saw what looked like burned wood. And a body. It looked burned and unrecognizable. Burned.

"Tara?" she asked, momentarily forgetting that corpses didn't usually talk.
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The body didn't respond. Hannah didn't expect it to. She still couldn't tell if it was Tara's. She thought it could be her size, but she just didn't know. Junko had said Tara was burning herself, but the morning announcement hadn't said that Tara was dead. Although those terrorists could have lied. Yes, that made a ton of sense, if they lied about things, then they could create more conflict. It's what the most dangerous villains would do, especially since in the world Hannah knew, that being the work of Shakespeare, so much conflict and violence was created through not having enough information.

Hannah spun around quickly when she heard the quiet voice behind her. She couldn't help but let out a squeak of pain. Her rolled ankle hadn't appreciated her climbing the stairs up at all. Her arm flailed the board in the air in front of her as she spun around. How could she not have heard someone sneak up on her?

She recognized the boy now in front of her, Noah Whitley. He'd done some crew work for theater before, she thought. That didn't really matter to her right now, because she was on murder island, and hadn't expected him to sneak up on her.

"Jesus Noah, you," her words got faster. "Why'd you have to freakin' sneak?"
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"Um yeah," she responded lamely.

She could feel tears welling up in her eyes. Her mind couldn't get off the question, was it Tara? Then it hit her. It probably was. Sure, it was possible that multiple bodies on the island had been burned, but it was probably pretty unlikely.

"Does," she sniffed, trying to hold back crying about another dead classmate.

"Does that look like Tara?"

She gestured with the board.

Then she felt the tears start, but she tried to pretend it was just more rain on her face.

Hannah wasn't sure which answer she'd want Noah to give.
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"Oh Je-fuck!"

Noah had fainted. She hadn't been expecting that. From his comment of something unpleasant being around, she'd assumed he'd seen the body already. That was sure stupid of her.

The board was quickly dropped, and she kneeled down next to Noah. Was he breathing? She thought he was. Had he hit his head? She wasn't even sure what she would do if he had. She was good at a lot of things, but first aid wasn't one of them. She breathed in and out quickly. She wasn't prepared for this.

She pulled her backpack off and pulled a bottle of water out. Noah would probably need some. That much she was confident of. Everyone needed water. Hannah tended to drink a lot of it during rehearsals because there was so much talking.
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Noah seemed okay! That was an incredibly huge relief. She would have simply felt awful had he been actually hurt. It was probably her fault though. She had mentioned Tara, and, and the body was just awful. Maybe she didn't want someone to tell her if she was right or wrong about it.

She smiled at Noah's joke. It was probably really embarrassing to faint like that. Hannah would be anyway. Or she thought she would. It was possible that she wouldn't care as much now. There were so many bigger issues to be worried about, like where her friends were, and if some evil wretch was going to try and kill her.

She awkwardly changed from kneeling to sitting. They could just sit for a moment, so Noah to recover. Plus she could stay off her ankle for a moment. It almost felt normal now that it didn't have any weight on it.

"Hey umm, I'm really sorry."

She hadn't meant for him to faint. Not at all. Plus she wasn't sure what else to say. It's not like she could mention the body again after that.
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Hannah smiled at the next joke. Glitter was pretty awful. She never wore anything glittery because it was so awful. It just got everywhere and if it got on you or a piece of your clothing, forget it, that was never coming out. And then she'd be constantly distracted by it if it did get on her clothes. Awful awful awful.

She slowly got to her feet with a deep exhale from the pain in her ankle, her smile vanishing. She was initially going to follow Noah to the helicopter, but sheesh, it looked like it was about to dive off the edge.

"Noah wait," she started.

She wasn't sure how to finish. How did one say "hey I'd like you not to fall to your death?" without sounding super emotional and oversentimental.

"It looks super shaky."

Well, apparently that was how.
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Hannah cringed a little as Noah took the risk. And nothing happened. The helicopter was more stable than that. Of course it was. If it hadn't fallen off after however long it had been sitting there. She kind of wondered what had happened to not only empty the asylum, but the other buildings as well. They had left behind all their stuff.

"The painkillers aren't that great," she said, if it really meant anything. She'd only used the ibuprofen, and maybe it would have helped her ankle more if she hadn't kept walking on it. But she had people she needed to find, so she kept moving, even if it was slowly and with plenty of breaks to rest.

She wasn't taking the risk of the helicopter though, she stood close to it, being careful not to actually lean on it. She adjusted her baseball cap to keep the rain off her face. Maybe it would be better to just get inside at some point. Noah didn't seem to be doing that great, and well, she supposed that might take priority over finding Irene and Olivia. Just maybe.

"I can take a look, if you need a minute, to like, just rest."
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Hannah frowned. She wasn't sure what else Noah should be doing, but just being reliant on the meager painkillers the terrorists gave them seemed like an awful idea. Was there a choice though? She didn't think so. Gosh, what did people do in these situations? Maybe lots of people just gradually got sicker and sicker until...

She looked over the burned pile.

Well until they died.

Noah said he'd want to go inside. Hannah wasn't sure about that. Sure it was raining, her legs ached even more than when she had to run the mile in P.E., her ankle was hurt, and she thought she could feel some blisters on her feet, but even so, she needed to find people.

"Well..."

She felt a muscle painfully stiffen up in her right foot.

"Ow, yeah, well, yeah, me too."
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Hannah hurried up to follow Noah, even as her ankle pained in protest.

(Hannah Kendrickstone continued in If We Could Have Tomorrow in Technicolor)
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