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You thought it was Kimiko but it was me, Jerry!
Topic Started: Apr 6 2017, 03:06 AM (1,325 Views)
Iceblock
Survivor
[ *  * ]
((Melanie Beckett continued from Electric Dreams))

"Is he dead?"

She was gripping the seat with both hands, white-knuckled. Instinct. When they'd accelerated, when they'd collided, it'd happened in a moment. Seat belts. She was in one piece. She peeled her hands off the seat. They squeezed themselves into fists. One hovered around her chest, as if to jab someone. The other, around her waist.

Even her voice didn't quite sound like her own. Little too fast. Squeezed a little too tight. Cut right through the end of Aiden's yell. She had to know.

Through the window she could see Jerry's fallen form. Not clear. They'd hit him. Hard. Everything had scattered. Still not clear enough. She had to know for sure. There were others, asking things of Serena. The words didn't reach her. They weren't for her yet anyway.

She fumbled with the back door, almost made to get out. She wasn't sure if the engine was still running. If the car would start beeping.

"We hit him. Is he dead?"
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Iceblock
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[ *  * ]
Fuck. Her head hurt.

She didn't know why she'd asked in the first place.

She had to see it for herself, didn't she? So them telling her maybe, probably, pretty sure he was dead - that didn't help. And forget for now them actually putting this whole thing in practice, forget Serena and Aiden apologizing after the fact. It wasn't like they'd dragged her along kicking and screaming, anyway. She was every bit as responsible for this.

The thing was, they'd botched up Alvaro, and that'd seemed like a sure thing. So if they were going to do this, they had to do it right, not leave Jerry the possibility of crawling away, even if he bled out in a ditch afterwards.

"Watch me, will you?"

Mel opened the rear door, got out, and closed it behind her. Once she got a better look at Jerry, she could tell that she hadn't needed to make sure.
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"Yeah," Mel said, and felt the tip of her tongue touch the dry roof of her mouth before she forced the next words out. "I'm good."

Guy had just walked past and started looting all of Jerry's stuff before ditching. Felt like kind of a dick move. Not that it didn't make sense. It was practical, more practical than she would likely ever get around to being.

But that wasn't a given anymore. She was already starting to be drawn into this. She'd suddenly felt the need to make sure that they were doing this right, to make sure that they didn't mess up or inflict the same kind of suffering too.

It felt different. It felt like the sort of different that she'd been avoiding. It felt like she was giving in, like she was changing in all the wrong ways.

She wasn't thinking about it real hard, not now, not yet. It'd been too long since she'd been in the right sort of condition for deep thinking. All she knew was that her doubts had crept back in full force.

Anyway, there was nothing she could think of to say to Bart. He looked pretty terrified still; she didn't figure telling him to relax would help. So she just climbed back in the car again. Plopped herself down.

"I'm not really good with prayers" - at least, ever since she'd started ducking out of going to church with her mom on Sundays - "so, uh, you do it. I say we just get going before they take away our driver's licenses."
The Present

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Iceblock
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[ *  * ]
"Good luck, though," Mel offered out the window. "Pretty sure they'll still be good people - better than hanging out with Jerry, anyway. And... yeah."

She trailed off. She'd spoken without thinking, and in the next moment had realized she'd served herself a reminder of where she had failed - or if not exactly failed, at least where she had fallen short of what she wanted.

Nothing much. Just a stray thought about Astrid. Things they could have settled, one way or another. Words she could have said. At least with Sandy she had only left the distance that had grown between them unbridged. She could assume the conclusion, if they'd just been given the time. With Astrid, it was like kicking a soccer ball but never getting to see where it came down.

It was a pretty bad analogy. Aiden was the one who'd know about soccer balls coming down in the wrong place, if he hadn't suppressed that memory by now. She'd keep it. It was good for a laugh, and she'd need a laugh probably sooner than later.

There was no one left for her to find. Bart might at least get some closure. If he did, it wouldn't really matter to her. If he didn't, it wouldn't matter either - so she'd just stick with hoping for the better of the two.
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Things had wound down again. Not paying attention to much anymore, Mel slumped back in her seat and closed her eyes.

She'd get some sleep while she could. After what had just happened, if she had dreams, they would be nightmares - still, it was better than thinking about the end. Not death, although she knew that was coming too, but what might happen if they were too successful.

They had made it this far already. There was still a ways to go. What would stop them from going all the way if given the choice? When the reward was just within reach... who really cared that it was the terrorists who offered it?

Maybe just her stubborn self. And she was starting to think she couldn't even trust in that anymore.

((Melanie Beckett continued elsewhere))
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