(no subject)
Downtime was rare. Kevin would normally make the most of a situation like this by telling knock-knock jokes or imparting some funny, ireverrent story from his days in the RPD, but even he realized that Now Was Not The Time.
The grocery store would have been looted, he assumed, if it hadn't had been so deep in the heart of the city. There were quite a few of them inside, and it looked like the boarded windows and barred doors had only worked to keep the Biters and the people they apparently dined on in rather than any of them out, but that meant there were only about thirty to take care of.
And hey, food.
The five of them - he, Alyssa, Yoko, Cindy - sat around the fire that Kevin had had to construct himself, the wood harvested from nearby fruit crates and lit with his trusty zippo. Cindy hadn't helped because she was busy clacking along behind him, insisting he let her tend to his wounds. This was cute for about five minutes.
Yoko, who was always really kind of a quiet girl, had dropped her metal pipe and become just a shade livelier than completely catatonic when they'd reached the inside of the store and apparent safety.
The only one in any shape to help was Alyssa, who seemed more interested in attempting to get a signal on her cellphone from different points in the store after she'd dragged Kevin along to make sure there were no Biters present, and then shooed him away so she could hopefully make Important Calls without his presence as a deterrent.
He had initially thought that being trapped with three young women would be an awesome experience, but was starting to realize the err of his ways in the fact that he was the one all eyes fell on when a monster needed whomping or a fire needed to be built. Other than that, he was roundly ignored or depended on for momentary emotional support, and then ignored again. If you didn't count Alyssa's intermittent, intent looks after Kevin's certain bouts of manly physical activity that weren't so much smoldering rather than promising eventual physical violation be it with Kevin's consent or not, it was pretty much a wash.
Truth be told, he was starting to feel acutely sympathetic for prehistoric man.
But, here they sit, in complete silence if you don't count Cindy's soft sobbing. Somehow it makes the silence worse; he has to fill it.
"So..." he begins, lacing his fingers. "Anyone got any funny stories?"
Yoko stares at the fire, dark brown eyes unflinching. Cindy says nothing, sitting with her hand covering mouth and nose and crying, muffled. Alyssa is irritatedly smoking a menthol cigarette. Finally, her remark reports like a firecracker:
"Would you shut that shit up, you hyper-emotional cow?"
Cindy's response is to sob harder, this time covering her face with both hands.
"OH, don't - what's the matter with you?!" Alyssa isn't sympathetic; in fact, the earnest crying seems to make her angrier.
"Hey, man..." Kevin begins, holding out a hand. "Maybe you should -"
"Maybe I should what?!" Alyssa snaps, turning, eyes aflash. She's not usually this caustic. It's getting to her, too.
"Kevin," Yoko says, suddenly, and looks up, straight at him. "I'm hungry. Will you come with me?" Kevin's about to protest that there were no Biters left in here, he'd killed them all himself, but then he realizes this is Yoko's suggestion to take him away from this, at least momentarily.
"...sure," he says finally, and gets to his feet. He eyes Alyssa, half expecting her to pounce on Cindy like some kind of feral animal, but all she does it smother her cigarette butt with a shoe and march off to find another phone signal that won't come. Cindy sobs into the wet wad of paper towels she's been clutching for the last half-hour, apparently ignorant of anyone's presence there but her own. Yoko starts for the breakfast cereal aisle, far to the right of the store.
They walk in silence for almost five minutes, Yoko leading the way. It's obvious she's not afraid of anything jumping out and getting her; she's left her pipe up by the fire. Kevin's not necessarily sure what he's supposed to do: jokey bullshit and fighting are all he's really good at, and he has a feeling she needs neither right about now. Yoko eventually sits against a mostly-empty shelf and tears open a box of Captain Crunch. Kevin leans opposite of her, arms crossed, watching the endcaps just for something to do. He thinks he sees shadows at one point, but it turns out to be Cindy's silhouette, plainly sobbing even though they're now out of earshot, looking as small and dark and alone against the fire as anything he's ever seen.
"Think she misses George," Kevin remarks. For a few moments there's only the sound of Yoko eating. "Or maybe the other guys."
"She's worried." Yoko replies. "She feels responsible for us, I think."
Kevin nods, watching Cindy still. She finally lays down, and Alyssa returns to the scene; she leans against the Customer Service counter. She's too still to be doing anything but talking.
"Do you think we're going to see them again?" Yoko asks, looking up. "The other three."
Kevin looks over at her, but is disarmed by her eyes; don't lie to me. He can't meet them, and looks down.
"...nah," he says, finally, rubbing his mouth with the leathery palm of one of his gloves. It smells like gunpowder, blood, metal. "Can't say I do, Yoko."
Yoko looks down again, and puts the box of cereal aside. You can almost see her appetite drain out of her. Kevin almost reaches out for her, offers up a totally false and perfunctory assurance that at least David was probably still alive, they seemed like buddies - but it doesn't come. He can't lie to her.
"I don't understand why this happened," Yoko says, and reaches under the collar of her jacket to idly scratch her shoulder. Her hand comes back out bloody, and the conversation stops there. Kevin unfolds his arms and pushes off of the shelf, reaches into his shirt pocket, and at once she shrinks back, in an almost automatic position that he thinks is very accustomed to fear and withdrawal. He can't decide whether it's from these last few days, and then decides it's no longer his business to judge it.
"I - I don't think it's from a bite, Kevin," she says very quickly, without her usual composure and her eyes shoot from his hand to his face to his hand about five times. She's trying to see if he's pulling a gun or a knife; if she has to run. She's shaking. "I would know if it was a bite, it doesn't feel like -"
"Calm down," he says, in his best soothing voice, and she almost collapses to the floor when he pulls out the white handkerchief from his breast pocket. It's sweaty and kind of dirty, but it's cleaner than anything else they have on them. "I'm not going to hurt you. Lemme see."
His shadow is large over her, and she looks up, still watching him intently. She's wearing a shirt under her sweater, he can see it - she doesn't pull back when he unbuttons it and uses the handkerchief to mop the blood off of her shoulder. It looks like a puncture wound from a knife or a piece of glass. He applies pressure and she watches, what little color remains in her face rapidly draining.
"I - your handkerchief..." she says, finally realizing the close proximity and trying to flatten herself against the shelves accordingly. He quirks an eyebrow, but doesn't move; he finally guides her hand to hold the square of silk there, and when he steps back he notices her face is almost the color of her shoulder, and she can't meet his eyes.
"It's yours now." He says, lightly tapping his fist on the underside of her chin in a 'cheer up' type of gesture. "The cut's not deep. You can -"
There's a deep, angry sound from a few feet away; Alyssa's shadow falls directly between them. She clears her throat.
"Sorry to interrupt," she snaps, "but I got a signal."
Kevin thinks to be sorry for prehistoric man again, but there are more important things at hand right now.
The grocery store would have been looted, he assumed, if it hadn't had been so deep in the heart of the city. There were quite a few of them inside, and it looked like the boarded windows and barred doors had only worked to keep the Biters and the people they apparently dined on in rather than any of them out, but that meant there were only about thirty to take care of.
And hey, food.
The five of them - he, Alyssa, Yoko, Cindy - sat around the fire that Kevin had had to construct himself, the wood harvested from nearby fruit crates and lit with his trusty zippo. Cindy hadn't helped because she was busy clacking along behind him, insisting he let her tend to his wounds. This was cute for about five minutes.
Yoko, who was always really kind of a quiet girl, had dropped her metal pipe and become just a shade livelier than completely catatonic when they'd reached the inside of the store and apparent safety.
The only one in any shape to help was Alyssa, who seemed more interested in attempting to get a signal on her cellphone from different points in the store after she'd dragged Kevin along to make sure there were no Biters present, and then shooed him away so she could hopefully make Important Calls without his presence as a deterrent.
He had initially thought that being trapped with three young women would be an awesome experience, but was starting to realize the err of his ways in the fact that he was the one all eyes fell on when a monster needed whomping or a fire needed to be built. Other than that, he was roundly ignored or depended on for momentary emotional support, and then ignored again. If you didn't count Alyssa's intermittent, intent looks after Kevin's certain bouts of manly physical activity that weren't so much smoldering rather than promising eventual physical violation be it with Kevin's consent or not, it was pretty much a wash.
Truth be told, he was starting to feel acutely sympathetic for prehistoric man.
But, here they sit, in complete silence if you don't count Cindy's soft sobbing. Somehow it makes the silence worse; he has to fill it.
"So..." he begins, lacing his fingers. "Anyone got any funny stories?"
Yoko stares at the fire, dark brown eyes unflinching. Cindy says nothing, sitting with her hand covering mouth and nose and crying, muffled. Alyssa is irritatedly smoking a menthol cigarette. Finally, her remark reports like a firecracker:
"Would you shut that shit up, you hyper-emotional cow?"
Cindy's response is to sob harder, this time covering her face with both hands.
"OH, don't - what's the matter with you?!" Alyssa isn't sympathetic; in fact, the earnest crying seems to make her angrier.
"Hey, man..." Kevin begins, holding out a hand. "Maybe you should -"
"Maybe I should what?!" Alyssa snaps, turning, eyes aflash. She's not usually this caustic. It's getting to her, too.
"Kevin," Yoko says, suddenly, and looks up, straight at him. "I'm hungry. Will you come with me?" Kevin's about to protest that there were no Biters left in here, he'd killed them all himself, but then he realizes this is Yoko's suggestion to take him away from this, at least momentarily.
"...sure," he says finally, and gets to his feet. He eyes Alyssa, half expecting her to pounce on Cindy like some kind of feral animal, but all she does it smother her cigarette butt with a shoe and march off to find another phone signal that won't come. Cindy sobs into the wet wad of paper towels she's been clutching for the last half-hour, apparently ignorant of anyone's presence there but her own. Yoko starts for the breakfast cereal aisle, far to the right of the store.
They walk in silence for almost five minutes, Yoko leading the way. It's obvious she's not afraid of anything jumping out and getting her; she's left her pipe up by the fire. Kevin's not necessarily sure what he's supposed to do: jokey bullshit and fighting are all he's really good at, and he has a feeling she needs neither right about now. Yoko eventually sits against a mostly-empty shelf and tears open a box of Captain Crunch. Kevin leans opposite of her, arms crossed, watching the endcaps just for something to do. He thinks he sees shadows at one point, but it turns out to be Cindy's silhouette, plainly sobbing even though they're now out of earshot, looking as small and dark and alone against the fire as anything he's ever seen.
"Think she misses George," Kevin remarks. For a few moments there's only the sound of Yoko eating. "Or maybe the other guys."
"She's worried." Yoko replies. "She feels responsible for us, I think."
Kevin nods, watching Cindy still. She finally lays down, and Alyssa returns to the scene; she leans against the Customer Service counter. She's too still to be doing anything but talking.
"Do you think we're going to see them again?" Yoko asks, looking up. "The other three."
Kevin looks over at her, but is disarmed by her eyes; don't lie to me. He can't meet them, and looks down.
"...nah," he says, finally, rubbing his mouth with the leathery palm of one of his gloves. It smells like gunpowder, blood, metal. "Can't say I do, Yoko."
Yoko looks down again, and puts the box of cereal aside. You can almost see her appetite drain out of her. Kevin almost reaches out for her, offers up a totally false and perfunctory assurance that at least David was probably still alive, they seemed like buddies - but it doesn't come. He can't lie to her.
"I don't understand why this happened," Yoko says, and reaches under the collar of her jacket to idly scratch her shoulder. Her hand comes back out bloody, and the conversation stops there. Kevin unfolds his arms and pushes off of the shelf, reaches into his shirt pocket, and at once she shrinks back, in an almost automatic position that he thinks is very accustomed to fear and withdrawal. He can't decide whether it's from these last few days, and then decides it's no longer his business to judge it.
"I - I don't think it's from a bite, Kevin," she says very quickly, without her usual composure and her eyes shoot from his hand to his face to his hand about five times. She's trying to see if he's pulling a gun or a knife; if she has to run. She's shaking. "I would know if it was a bite, it doesn't feel like -"
"Calm down," he says, in his best soothing voice, and she almost collapses to the floor when he pulls out the white handkerchief from his breast pocket. It's sweaty and kind of dirty, but it's cleaner than anything else they have on them. "I'm not going to hurt you. Lemme see."
His shadow is large over her, and she looks up, still watching him intently. She's wearing a shirt under her sweater, he can see it - she doesn't pull back when he unbuttons it and uses the handkerchief to mop the blood off of her shoulder. It looks like a puncture wound from a knife or a piece of glass. He applies pressure and she watches, what little color remains in her face rapidly draining.
"I - your handkerchief..." she says, finally realizing the close proximity and trying to flatten herself against the shelves accordingly. He quirks an eyebrow, but doesn't move; he finally guides her hand to hold the square of silk there, and when he steps back he notices her face is almost the color of her shoulder, and she can't meet his eyes.
"It's yours now." He says, lightly tapping his fist on the underside of her chin in a 'cheer up' type of gesture. "The cut's not deep. You can -"
There's a deep, angry sound from a few feet away; Alyssa's shadow falls directly between them. She clears her throat.
"Sorry to interrupt," she snaps, "but I got a signal."
Kevin thinks to be sorry for prehistoric man again, but there are more important things at hand right now.