"What's it looking like Sam?"
"Looks to be a gang of about twenty. Well armed. Look like they've seen their fair share of fights. Most likely Solarii. I'm guessing they're on shifts if three each centered around the general store in the center of town. And," Sam zooms in and her worst fears are confirmed, "looks like they have one of those riot trucks. Sub-machine gun mounted on top. Jesus..."
"Shit. This is the only town we haven't checked yet. And judging from your assessment, they aren't exactly the friendly type." After a brief pause, she gently leans back on one knee, then sits down on the damp soil. The foliage proves to be great cover for scouting, and the hillside allows for a great view. But after last night's bone chilling rain, it may not prove to be a sufficient camping sight. Not to mention, it is far too close to the town to be safe from potential patrols.
"Do you see a hospital?" Sam scans the surrounding areas until she spots the structure with the name New Hope Clinic displayed in deep red lettering on the top left corner of the third floor.
"There's a clinic on the far east part of town. From the looks of it, it's probably already been gutted out. But I guess there's no harm in checking. I don't see any patrols around it, so I'm guessing it should be okay."
Lara purses her lips as her eyes dart from the town spayed out before them and the dim LCD screen of sam's camera. Immediately after her assessment, she shuts it off and stores it away in her side pack, carefully wrapping it in is tarnished black rag.
"But you're not sure?"
"I had to turn off my camera. I can't get a good visual but from the looks of it most of the activity is centered on that general store."
Lara sighs deeply and shifts her position a bit, shooting pain up her left side. It radiates just above her hip and she clenches her jaw to keep from crying out. Sam just needs to glance in her direction to be thrown into a fit of panic, launching off her crouched position and helping Lara onto her back.
"Is it your wound again?" Sam asks and Lara nods frantically, her face distorted in agony.
"It's fine, it's okay-" the words lodge in her throat as another wave of pain overtakes her and causes her vision to spin. Sam's brows converge in a deep crease as she takes hold of Lara's clenched fists in her calloused hands. One of her hands brushes over Lara's forehead and her heart skips a beat.
"Sweetie, you're burning up." Immediately, Sam sets to work, pouring some of the precious amounts of water they have onto a rag and pressing it against her forehead.
"I'm fine, Sam, really. I'll be okay, I just need some rest." She stops talking for a moment to gulp down with vigor generous amounts of water from the canteen Sam puts to her lips. Even the stale, metallic taste doesn't taper Lara's frantic drinking; it's the first drink of water she's had all day, despite the fact the sun hangs high in the early autumn sky. When Sam pulls the canteen away, she reluctantly draws back and remembers she's not the only one who needs water.
"You should have some too."
Sam shakes her head. "I'm fine."
"Sam." Lara is staring hard and Sam knows there is no point in denying both Lara's stare and her achingly dry throat. She sighs.
"Okay. One drink." A slight smile pulls at Lara's lips as Sam cautiously takes a sip. She lets the water swish and sit in her mouth, savoring the relief it brings.
"You look like you're having a religious experience there." Lara croaks and smiles with cracked lips.
"I want to marry this water." Sam mumbles and Lara chuckles softly, careful not to upset her wound. "Alright," Sam shuffles on her knees towards Lara's left side, "let's take a look at that wound."
As always, Lara groans and insists there's nothing wrong and she's fine but if Sam believed her every time she said that, chances are Lara would be dead. Honestly, it took three hours of constant nagging on Sam's part for Lara to even show her the wound. By then, it burned a deep angry red, with red and white discharge sticking to Lara's undershirt. Eight days later, they find themselves outside their third town, scavenging for antiseptic. Still no luck. And the way the wound has crusted firmly to the makeshift gauzes and the temperature Lara is burning at, it's evident that they can't keep going on like this.
Sam reaches for her pack and pulls out the roll of medical tape, alcohol, and gauzes.
"On your side, you stubborn four-year-old." Sam teases gently as she eases Lara down on the soil. As Sam preps the alcohol and gauzes, Lara balls up the sleeve of her jacket—an old heavy army jacket Roth left at her flat a few years ago—and bites down.
"Ready?" Sam asks and Lara gives one decisive nod. Sam begins to peel off the tape, and then pours water on the gauze. Lara jumps and groans lowly, trying to keep calm for both of their sakes. Then Sam begins the arduous process of peeling the stuck gauze from the infected wound. Moving as quickly as possible, she finally pulls the gauze free and begins to wipe the wound down with the alcohol soaked rag. Lara tries to stay still, but she can't help but writhe when Sam starts cleaning the wound directly. After ten agonizing minutes, a new gauze is taped in place and Lara lay still, breathing as deeply as the wound would allow.
"I'm so sorry sweetie." Sam whispers softly, brushing the hair from her sweat soaked forehead.
"I've had it worse breaking up bar fights. This is nothing." She attempts to joke but her voice shakes and falters.
Gently, Sam takes Roth's jacket and lays it carefully over Lara's shivering form. For a moment, she considers whether Lara can fight off the infection with what little supplies they have now. Alcohol, water, and gauzes can only get you so far… and seeing Lara like this is enough to steel Sam's resolve. They need to venture into town.
"This is the last of it." Sam says as she sprinkles two pills into Lara's palm. She downs them quickly, and waits a few moments for the relief to sink in.
"Okay," her breathing comes easier, and she nods, "okay, let's go."
As always, they take it slow going into town. Only now, they switch roles and Sam goes first (but not too far ahead) scouting for any dangers that may lay ahead. Lara grips her climbing axe uncomfortably tight, her knuckles growing white and her muscles trembling ever so slightly. Even with the morphine pills, moving at this pace (just above a brisk walk) is nearly unbearable. But she would rather endure the pain than let Sam go in alone. No matter what, she's never leaving Sam's side.
The trip to the hospital is rather uneventful; maybe a result of Sam's obsessive tendency to over plan her routes (because reviewing footage is practically euphoric to her) or because Lara's slow pace allows Sam to be extra cautious. Regardless, the journey takes a little over half an hour and by the time they enter the hospital from a side door, the sun had begun its decent.
Inside the hospital, it smells of death and mold. Luckily, the pair had scavenged some gasmasks from an abandoned army depot not too long ago, so the smell doesn't slow them down. They begin their strategic hunt through the clinic, Lara taking the rooms on the left and Sam the right. The first floor sweep brings little success: two rolls of medical tape, a box of small gauzes (much too small for Lara's wound, but may prove useful regardless), and a thin, white cotton blanket.
The second floor proves to be far more generous as they find half a box of syringes, ten packages of large gauzes and, miraculously, a sealed jug of water. How this treasure survived the first wave of looting is beyond them, but it is welcomed nonetheless.
By the third floor, Lara is already exhausted: panting and sweating, leaning on anything she can find. However, she doesn't say anything and soldiers on, sweeping through each room, praying to find any sign of antibiotics.
When they regroup near the stairway, it is obvious their main objective remains unfulfilled.
"Nothing." Sam says, her voice muffled by the gasmask.
"We tried." Lara replies, trying desperately not to show her discomfort.
"Shit." Lara stares intently at Sam and reaches for her hand.
"Come on," she tugs her towards the stairway, "there's always another town."
She says this as though they have all the time in the world, as if she has all of the time in the world. But the way she is gripping the railing for dear life and sweating as if she had just run a marathon….
They reach the first floor but before Sam knows what's going on, Lara rips her arm down, effectively pulling her down to the ground. She puts a finger to where her lips would be and stays completely still. In the distance, faint chatter rises above the heavy silence that had once suffocated the empty streets. The front door creaks open.
"—every day. If it rains again like it did last night, I might just go insane. You know Dave still hasn't fixed that hole in the roof? I swear to god, he is a waste of rations. We should just get rid of him now. The old bastard isn't worth his weight in food."
"Fucking tell me about it. But Mathias says he's useful and we can't really say anything to Mathias. Unless you want a bullet between your eyes."
"Fucking Mathias, let me tell you about Mathias. He is a selfish bastard who keeps around all these useless shits just because he has this massive power trip. Something about becoming a God. What a crock of shit. Mathias is weak. Let's just pray to god that infection he's got takes care of him before I have to. But they've been pumping him to the eyeballs with antibiotics so it's unlikely. Fucker just won't die."
"Hey," the tone of the man—sounding much older than the other—turns and the shuffling of their feet stop, "don't you say shit about Mathias. Despite everything, he decided to spare your ass and if I remember correctly, your friends were not so lucky. Watch your mouth, boy. And learn your place." A scoff. Footprints continue, and get louder.
"Yeah, whatever, old man."
Their footfalls get louder and the pair's hearts race out of their chests. Just as they think they would have to fight their way out of the clinic, another door opens and the building falls still. However, even with the silence and stillness, Lara and Sam can't find it in themselves to move from their crouched position on the staircase.
"Shit, that was close." Lara whispers and even with the mask, Sam hears her and nods.
"Let's get out of here."
They spill out into the alleyway, rip off their masks, and begin to suck in the crisp evening air. To Sam's horror, Lara looks worse; she's trembling and her skin is frightfully pale.
No, this can't be happening. Not to Lara, not now. Not after everything they've been through.
"I know you're going to hate me for this," Sam says as she stares resolutely at Lara, "but I have a plan. And I'm going to do it regardless of whether or not you're going to help me."
"Oh I don't like where this is going."
"It's a crazy idea. But I think it's our best shot."
Lara's vision swims in and out of focus, and it's impossible to resist her at this point. She's dying and she knows it and she's just desperate enough to put Sam in danger. Because love makes you do incredibly stupid things. Things that—although do not guarantee success—hold promise of permanence. To stay with the person you love, you are willing to do anything. And even though the decision does not come easy, there is no other choice. Like it or not, Lara is going to have to take a chance. For Sam.
"What do I need to do?"
After much arguing and apologizing, Sam finally convinces Lara to go along with her plan. As anticipated, it is an incredibly stupid idea and the potential for failure is far greater than the chance of it actually working. At this point in the game, however, alternatives are few and uncertain so despite everything, Lara agrees.
She is visibly upset and won't even look at Sam when they prepare for their daring mission. Some of it has to do with the pulsing headache she has and as a result, she really doesn't have the energy to argue anymore. Most of it has to do with the heavy burden Lara feels on her shoulders. If they fail, not only could she never see Sam again, but she would most likely die in a gutter somewhere, far away from the one she loves most. And Lara? She know what will happen. The infection and crippling guilt would prove too much for her body and she would die soon afterwards, hating herself to the very end.
All of this weighs on her shoulders as the sun sets behind the horizon and the half-moon rises to claim the night sky. She doesn't realize it's time to put this plan in effect until Sam is standing at her feet, looking down at Lara's doubled-over form.
Lara takes a long, shaky breath and then stands slowly. In her hand, her red climbing axe dangles from cold, boney fingers. From her shoulders, her pack is strapped on securely, all of the components needed shoved into the top of the main compartment. Around her abdomen, the thin cotton blanket is wrapped securely in place; she hopes the extra binding will keep the wound from bleeding when she's running from building to building. Over the binding is Roth's army jacket, a heavy green camo jacket with the Royal Marine Commando patch displayed on the right arm. In the dark, she blends in well; she'll need the cover to complete her part of the mission.
Sam is wearing this frighteningly calm expression alongside the multitude of cuts and scrapes she had acquired over the months. She's no longer wearing her black camera bag around her shoulder because she stowed it away in a tree along the exit route. Even in the midst of a life-or-death mission, she has the foresight to protect her camera (a habit Lara has come to find rather endearing). Her attire is not nearly as heavy as Lara's, she emptied her pack (it's contents stored away with her camera) so she can fill it with whatever supplies she finds. Lara's machete hangs from her belt and Roth's pistol is holstered under her arm beneath her leather bomber jacket. Six rounds, and both Sam and Lara are praying to god she won't have to use them.
When she stands, Sam reaches for her face, caressing her pale, cold skin with her calloused fingers. Lara's hands instinctually rest on Sam's waist, her climbing axe still in hand. As Lara takes her all in, all she can think about is how beautiful her Sam is, her heart aches at the very sight of her. Sam's fingers dance across Lara's face as if she is holding the most precious entity in the universe (because, as far as she is concerned, she really is).
"When you're out there, watch out for rebar." Sam jokes as they both laugh and smile. She's absolutely incorrigible, even in the face of danger.
"I promise, Sam." her words are calm and resolute.
Sam is the first to lean in, her arms encircle Lara's neck and she pulls her forward gently. Wasting no time, Lara closes the distance and kisses Sam, kisses her deep and desperately, as if it may be the last time she does.
"I love you, Sam." She whispers, barely pulling away enough to whisper. Sam surges forward again and presses their lips together again.
"I love you too." She says and fights back tears.
With a deep inhale, Lara slowly turns on her heels and begins to walk in the opposite direction. Sam watches for a few moments, but then turns and begins to sprint down the alleyways. They'll see each other again. They will. No matter what.
Chaos erupts in the camp when flames of the ensuing inferno flicker and thrash about the night sky. Smoke rises in thick black clouds that even in the darkness is visible. At first, only a handful of the camp's crew dispatch to check out the blaze. But as fire after fire springs to life in growing proximity to the camp, panic takes hold of the camp.
The men leap to action, arming themselves and starting up the riot control Humvee. Most of them scatter by foot, brandishing guns and axes and various other weapons scavenged from the surrounding areas and the military.
It's obvious that they are under attack and that the best plan of action would be to fortify their stronghold, but these men are wild, bloodthirsty, driven mad by the monotonous daily burdens of survival. For that reason, it is so easy for them to lose composure and fall apart at the seams.
The leader, an irrationally wild old man embellished with an assortment of pieces of junk and tarnished robes, isn't composed either and orders all his men to scour the town.
"No one leaves this place alive!" he declares from atop the structure at the heart of their headquarters. It's evident from the information Sam acquired from the soldiers near the hospital that this Mathias is not in the best health, the way he clutches his makeshift staff.
Must move quickly. Must move quietly.
Sam ventures into the basecamp, glancing wildly from side to side for any signs of trouble. Once she successfully navigates the basecamp, she is surprised to find the backdoor unlocked. Cautiously, she enters the store and fumbles nervously for the gun at her side.
Systematically, she searches each cabinet for any antibiotics, and finding only ammunition and canned foods.
Holy fuck that's real food.
The temptation is too much as she swipes a few cans from the cabinets and shoves them into the empty pack with vigor. The extra weight shouldn't be too much to handle… but a couple cans of soup and vegetables is definitely not worth dying over. After choosing wisely, she shuts the cabinet and scrambles about to continue her search.
After desperately pawing through each cabinet, her heart nearly stops when she opens the last cabinet and it is filled to the brim with pill bottles. Her breath catches in her throat for a moment and she nearly starts crying. She never thought she'd get overly emotional over medication (but then again she never thought she'd be the mastermind behind a daring arson-induced breaking and entering ploy).
Working quickly, she snatches at the pill bottles and begins to frantically read the labels. It wasn't until this moment that she realized she had no fucking clue what kind of pills she's looking for.
No time, whatever, take what's there.
She fills her bag to the brim, zips it up, and not-so-discreetly sprints out of the building.
"THERE SHE IS! KILL THE OUTSIDER!"
"Fuck!" Sam shouts but doesn't look back to see who's spotted her. Gunfire erupts as she scrambles and dives in the way Lara showed her. Sprinting through the back alleyways, she thanks god she learned how to hop fences like a pro back during her wild years.
In the distance, she can hear the Humvee barreling through the streets and heading her direction.
"Shit, shit, shit!" she growls under her breath as she charges through one of the houses they chose during their initial scouting mission. In the darkness, she trips hard over a piece of furniture that sat in the middle of the living room and she falls hard. With only time to curse under her breath, she scrambles back up to her feet, ignoring the pain jolting up her leg. No matter, they have plenty of medicine to fix it if it's anything serious. She's running, it's not broken, it doesn't matter.
As she busts through the back door and over the last fence, she hazards a backwards glance. It wasn't until that moment that Sam could appreciate how thorough Lara was on her part. Half the city is ablaze, thick clouds of smoke choking the night sky. Hopefully that will keep them busy long enough for Sam and Lara to put some distance between them.
"Solarii bastards got what was coming to them." She grins.
She sprints from the tree line into the surrounding forest and wastes no time concealing herself in the thick foliage. Thinking back on her plan, she didn't think it would be this difficult to find the tree full of her stuff but then again, she was counting on the moon's light. Hidden beneath the black smoke, it didn't prove to be too useful anymore. Nevertheless, she finds her bag, throws it over her shoulder, and sprints to the rendezvous point.
Please be there, Lara. Please be there, Lara. Please…
Among the dense trees and thickets, Lara is standing there, leaning against the tallest tree amongst them, a forced grin pulled onto her face. She holds her side gingerly, but thankfully, the cloth is not soaked in blood.
It worked. It fucking worked.
"Pills?"
"A fuck ton." Lara laughs.
"You are a genius, Sam. A real crazy, stupid genius." She says as she throws her arms around her and holds her tighter than she ever has before.
"This is Samantha Nishimura and Lara Croft. It's been 143 days since the global riots began and 32 days since we have escaped the London military camps. We have yet to receive any information from the Endurance or Conrad Roth. At this point, we have decided that despite three days of lost contact, we are continuing our pursuit towards the rendezvous point in Plymouth. After having to take major detours to avoid military headquarters and bands of Solarii, we are within a day's walk from Plymouth. I only have one minute left of battery left on my camera."
Sam takes a deep breath and takes her eyes off the camera screen. Lara's sleeping peacefully at her side, her face illuminated by the weak glow of her LCD screen. A smile tugs at the corners of her lips.
"Today was the scariest day of my life. I thought… I thought I was going to lose Lara. And when you really start thinking about it, how your daily routine would change, what your future will look like, how going on living without the most important person in the world to you…"
Her eyes remain trained on Lara's sleeping form as she continues to speak.
"I love her so much it's almost scary. I would do anything for her. I would burn down cities, steal from a gang of lunatics, put myself in danger. Anything for her." Sam huffs as she glances at the LCD screen. Fifteen seconds of battery left.
"I don't know when or if I'll ever be able to find a new battery for my camera and I don't know if I'll ever record anything ever again. Just saying that breaks my poor camera girl heart," she chuckles and runs a hand through her hair.
"If, by chance, this camera falls into your possession and you somehow are able to watch these videos, I hope this video finds you well. Until next time, this is Samantha Nishimura and Lara Croft signing out. Good night. Good luck."