Teenage Rot
Chapter 4
Keep Me Warm
Flannery woke up with a start, gasping for air. The back of her head was throbbing and her entire body felt sore. Wiping the sweat off her forehead she sat up.
The events of the past few hours were still fresh in her mind. Hours? She wasn't quite sure but she knew it was still dark out due to the lack of light. That or the canopy above was blocking out the light, seeing as it was quite thick. Feeling the bump on her head caused her to hiss.
Were Curt and Whistle okay? She was back in the green colored tent that must've meant that Phillip had found them and that also meant that everyone else was okay.
They were probably outside too judging by how the fire crackled outside and the soft voice of Curt telling a story about some old cartoon. She didn't even know if she heard it right.
She found herself wrapped in a green army jacket that held two tags above its breast pockets one reading Orso while the other read US Army. Beneath the jacket she wore a red plaid patterned flannel shirt with a pair of Cargo pants all of which were hilariously over-sized for her small build.
She pulled the jacket tighter around herself, burying half her face into the collar. The jacket smelt like honey a scent she grew so familiar with over the years and had never forgotten. It soothed her in a way.
Her eyelids felt like tons, the grogginess from just waking up still there. She yawned; it wouldn't hurt to get a bit more of sleep, right?
Flannery lay back down. She yawned once more, eyes fluttering closed.
Just as she did however she was forced to open her eyes, well, halfway there at least, as a zwip of the tent's zipper entrance opening caught her attention, a head poking in like a curious dog.
Phillip probably didn't expect her to be awake already because as soon as he looked at her he beamed warmly, "Looks like Sleeping Beauty's finally woken up."
She puffed her cheeks, the teasing was still there.
She blinked at the green-haired man, barely keeping her eyes open for more than five seconds "How-how long was I out?" she slurred with a bit of drowsiness in her voice.
Phillip sucked in his left cheek; forest green eyes stared at a spot above her in mock concentration. "About an hour and a half." he answered eyes now back to her. An hour and a half? He made it seem like she was asleep for a week!
"What happened?" she questioned with another prompt yawn. He chuckled at her before answering the next question, "I heard something go off nearby," she was slightly surprised that he didn't flip, "I thought something probably happened to you three so I decided to go check it out. I found some old Chuckie guy instead, saw where it was headed and followed it around for a bit." he paused, "Had to blow its brains out when I saw what it was going for then I had to save your ass."
"Then? My stuff?"
"Uh, they got soaked, obviously, so I had to take them off and...Well, you know." his cheeks were dusted with pink and she couldn't help but crack an amused grin. "We don't have to go to that part, right?" he stuttered.
She shook her head; "I was asking where they were, y-you dummy!" she hiccuped in between fits of giggles.
"Oh, hangin'."
"Hanging out with whom?" she joked, sitting up. Flannery swore this random playfulness just came from nowhere.
"Shut up." he laughed along, "They're just hanging on some branch behind the tent."
She smiled a bit, it was as if they were still best friends and she hadn't avoided him for years.
"Is she awake? Lemme see!" she could hear the little boy shout from outside. A small hand was pulling, more like tugging, at the hem of Phillip's shirt. "Mooove, move!" Curt drawled.
"Geez, kid. Hold your horses." Phillip stepped back, him being replaced by the young boy who came bursting in along with his puppy, does that dog always stick to him? The kid launched himself at her. Curt wrapped his arms around Flannery's neck.
"Flaky, you're okay!" she wrapped her arms around him in reciprocation. "Of course I am." She smiled
Call it maternal instincts but she felt the need to protect the kid, he was just so small. She wanted to shelter him from this disintegrating, corrupted world but she knew the boy needed to be exposed to it. People had to toughen up, even she herself, for the easy days were long gone. It felt great, though, having something to fight for. He was just like a little brother to her and she'd try to protect him, and the pup, with all she had.
Her stomach growled like a freaking whale. Surprising her and causing Curt to bark out a loud laugh. Breaking the hug she crossed her arms, "Shush, you." Flannery playfully chided, poking the boy's forehead.
"I guess, you're hungry." Phillip noted, poking his head in the tent.
Her stomach answered for her; growling again but at least not as embarrassingly vociferous as before.
"I'll take that as a yes."
Flannery urged Curt out first followed by Whistle and herself. The dark that surrounded them seemed abysmal; the moonlight was indeed blocked by the thick canopy above their heads the only thing that lit the small area was the crackling fire that tinted their skins orange as they settle down on the ground.
"We saved a bit for ya." Phillip offered her a packet.
Some vegetable Lasagna, good choice, even though it's kind of cold. Flannery picked at the small plastic spoon inside. Though almost everything Phillip had packed was meat (She hated meat; it was from something that used to be alive and slaughtered and that made her shudder.) she was at least glad he decided to over pack.
A hand tugged at her sleeve and she looked down, setting the packet on her lap, to face its owner. Curt had a tin can in his hands the contents smelled like, chocolate? That was new. "I made it!" Curt said proudly a wide grin on his face.
Flannery took it in her free hand. "Thanks." She muttered, it was hot chocolate... or was hot chocolate. "Where did you get this?" she inquired, directing the question mostly towards Phillip.
"Flippy!" answered Curt who turned to look at the said person. Of course, she already knew that.
She gave him a questioning look. He seemed hesitant at first but answered her, "There was...there was a camp nearby." His voice was quieter than usual. He almost seemed a bit pale as if he'd seen a ghost.
"You...You stole it?" she demanded reason immediately.
"I didn't steal it." he countered defensively, arms crossed, almost like a child accused of taking a cookie from the cookie jar.
"Those people were long dead anyway. What use did they have for it?"
She dropped her look. The act was like a crime to her; a petty theft, almost like Blood money.
"Think about it; what if this Woodbury place has already been brought down to its knees or if we were declined entrance at least we'd have a bit more of food to last us a few more days."
Flannery sighed. She couldn't find anything to say. It was pretty useless too, fighting over hot-cold chocolate.
"Who were they?" she asked, lightly brushing her index finger against the tin can's cold surface. It was probably a group they may have been familiar with, this might explain his behavior.
"A couple we don't know, thankfully." He responded with a sudden stolid expression.
She didn't question him any further and returned to picking on the meal inside the packet with the small spoon. Everyone stayed silent for the time being, even Whistle for once, until they all had to retire from the night.
Flannery sat up perched on the flat rock beside the fire. Philip had the decency to clean the open wound, she got days before, and re-wrap her bandages for her while she was conked out at least. She returned the sterilized strips of cloth, antibiotics and the other bits back inside a knapsack she was sure Phillip had—looted. The hefty duffel bag he carried on his shoulders was getting cramped and brimming with so much stuff that she decided to move a few to the knapsack he brought back along with a few cans of food.
She blinked her dry eyes, sleep suddenly hard to capture. Hardly even suppressing a shudder when a gust of cold wind danced past her even with the jacket wrapped around her frame.
She hated being alone. The thought having sprung up suddenly now that her mind was unoccupied. She hated being alone because it provoked unwanted thoughts.
Dread crawled up her spine as her eyes began to play tricks on her. Shadows danced and ran across her field of vision, frames easily made out with the fire's light, all shaped differently, some were lanky others were round but they all had an ominous presence.
The uneasiness Flannery had felt became even worse when she envisioned a bloodied and battered, deformed man with a long lolling tongue and clawed, gnarled fingers lunge at her from the curtains of shadows. The eidolon seemed so solid and real that she was almost surprised that she wasn't being strangled at the moment.
The wind's billowing sounded like howls to her and the mash up of auditory hallucination and paranoid ideation caused her to completely jolt up from her sitting position and nosedive back into the packed tent.
She was quick to zip up the entrance and curl in her usual spot beside the dreaming child who snore quietly. Her brash actions nearly roused Whistle from his sleep but the pup promptly fell back into dream-land (If dogs dreamt, that is...)
Flannery squeezed her eyes shut, still quite shaken. She felt herself more or less calm down at the companionship of the three with her.
She tried to force herself to sleep by keeping her eyes closed.
After a few minutes that proved ineffective, much to her dismay.
She felt a hand lightly graze her shoulder followed by a comforting squeeze. She opened one of her eyes, taking a peek at the person opposite to her and beside Curt.
Phillie's eyelids drooped lazily, he seemed to be fighting to stay awake and obviously losing. He had his lips curled up in a lopsided manner. "Get some sleep will ya, Flakes?"
He muttered closing his eyes again falling right back to sleep. Flannery simpered in return tucking her chin into the jacket's collar.
He kept his hand on her shoulder for a bit before subconsciously pulling it back to his side.
Before it reached its destination however she snagged his hand in hers, hesitatingly interlacing their fingers.
She deemed the gesture as platonic affection though she was unsure herself.
The next day was uneventful just like the days prior, well, excluding the "Chuckie jump-scare" yesterday. Flannery woke up with a massive bed head not that it bothered her; she never really tried to fix up her wild red hair even before the outbreak.
She took her clothes from the branch of the tree behind the tent. Content that it had dried a bit; it looked like she would be stuck with Phil's clothes for today. Flannery was pretty damn happy that she decided not to wear her sweater on that day otherwise it would've shrunk. Flannery stuffed her clothes in the knapsack that on unspoken agreement between her and Phillip was now claimed as hers.
The rest of the day was spent on hiking until the sun went down. They were about to settle in a small area until the sounds of thrumming and soft humming came into earshot.
Flannery felt like jumping with joy when they found a wooden structure. Bonus points when she saw light illuminating the inside of the building!
The floors creaked beneath their weight. The place was dusty and seemingly empty if not for the classic music that echoed throughout and the lights that flickered every few minutes. The first room was an office— a Ranger's office as confirmed by Phillip.
A door behind a desk and chair piqued Phil's attention who immediately walked up to it. There was a piece of paper taped to it a sign that read; "Rest here, take what you need." in a rushed scrawl. Beneath that and written in much smaller letters were, "Keys in the drawer."
Flannery was first to reach it. She yanked it open, not seeing a key in the drawer but scribbled on paper, pencils and other random things. She shuffled through piles of trinkets and other junk to find a bronze key beneath it all.
Flannery pulled it out with a victorious grin then handing it to Phillip.
He lingered for a minute, as if deciding if it was a no-go or a go, he proceeded anyway.
The key fit, as expected and he yanked the door open expecting the worse.
The room adjacent to the office was a small living room furnished plainly with a beige couch with a coffee table in front of it and a newspaper rack beside it. On the walls were small paintings and picture frames of a group of people. There was a dusty phonograph leaning on one corner of the room. An unlit fireplace.
Somebody was here previous to them, there was a small bag with a cartoon cat printed on the front its contents spilled on the floor. The childish bag they had found in the living room was filled with clothes that almost fit Curt, probably owned by a seven year old along with a few other knick-knacks but aside from that, the music playing and the lights above their heads there was no evidence of other life in the house.
The living room was connected to a few other rooms, when they checked three were bedrooms. Two others led to a small kitchen and bathroom. There was another door but it was locked.
Upon inspection the three rooms were quite similar, each were painted dull beige with unevenly worn Oakwood floors. The three rooms were rather cramped with a bed with a window next to it or behind it in the case of the first room, a wardrobe and dresser which bless their souls, had clothes in them; a few uniforms, outdoor clothes and pajamas and they were poorly organized too. It looked more like a hamper than anything else. Somebody surely was in a hurry to pack up. What was different however were the posters on the first room, a pile of books on top of the second room's drawer and a carpet on the third beside the bed.
The kitchen had a medium sized refrigerator, an island and a stove along with the typical kitchen set you'd see with a few kitchen cabinets above it.
The bathroom next to it was well— pretty uninteresting like the rest of the structure but the water was running at the very least.
Despite its lonely atmosphere Phillip had insisted they check the entire area.
'Look, there's a door on the floor!" called Curt from inside one of the bedrooms. "Don't open it!" Phillip called out to the boy. Turning to Flannery; "Let's see what he's found this time."
Flannery simply nodded in return. The pair rushed to the third bedroom. Apparently Curt had tripped over the carpet in his explanation when asked what happened. Whistle had his nose running over the carpet. The carpet was rolled over just a tad to show a sturdy wooden trap door.
"We should see what's inside..." Flannery suggested, tentatively reaching out her hand. Her fingers brushed over the cold steel ring handle and she shuddered at the ice cold feeling.
Phillip huffed in approval, having Curt move back with a "Stay back, kid." as he pulled the carpet off the trapdoor that laid flush against the floor. Curt complied without a question, tugging Whistle's leash to urge the dog to follow.
Flannery put all her strength on pulling the door open. Her fingers curled tightly around the steel ring. Before Phillip could even offer her his assistance the trapdoor opened with an ear-rippling screech of wood scraping against wood.
Her action triggered the release of a plume of stagnant air. The dust floating within it caused Curt to sneeze, who had come closer to see their find. "Can you please get the flashlight, cub?" Phillip inquired, looking towards the kid.
Curt nodded his head rapidly, quickly running out of the room with Whistle trailing behind.
Curt returned in no time with a medium sized flashlight in hand.
With wobbly steps he gave it to Phillip who immediately took it before the child tripped under the weight.
"We'll need you to stay here, alright?" He questioned, flicking the flashlight's switch on.
"Why can't I come?" Curt asked quizzically in return instead of an answer. "You could get hurt." Flannery spoke up.
"No I won't. I can take care of myself just fine!" Curt was defiant. He crossed his arms with a pout on his face.
"Well if you can take care of yourself why don'tcha stay up here and watch out for anybody who barges in?" Phillip shined the beam of light in the dark room below, lighting a small spot that the darkness had let go of to reveal to a staircase that simply led downwards.
"Fine then, I will." Curt grinned at them, "And I can kick their butt too!" He added, posing in a sort of mock fighting stance with his fists raised.
Flannery laughed at the kid's actions. He was easily swayed and she was glad for that.
Phillip scaled down the staircase followed by herself. In the light shone dust motes that floated around. The smell was much powerful down here from upstairs. The smell of rust adding to it.
Flannery could see a basket filled with clothes leaning against the wall and she immediately suspected that this area was the laundry room. The floor was cemented and so were the walls around it. There was an adjoining room blocked off by a wall but could easily be accessed with the door. A washer and dryer laid beside the door, a puddle of water leaking close to it.
"If Petunia was here with us she'd be having a field day." Flannery casually commented to which Phillip laughed in return.
There was nothing particularly interesting to them in the first room. All curiosity was set on the door.
Phillip did the honors of unraveling the mystery inside it. As they inched closer he didn't even hesitate to twist the knob and open the door.
One step in—
CRACK!
It seemed so much like gun fire but it only happened once. She heard a dull thud as a flare of white light blinded them for the shortest second before everything turned dark save for the dropped flashlight on the ground that beamed at a wall inside the connected room. It revealed tiny glass shards and—
Oh, God. Her stomach churned when she saw a hand lazily lying on the cold concrete. If it was even connected to a body she was not sticking around to find out.
Turning to Phillip she waited for any indication that they leave the basement immediately. What she was met with however was a ticking time-bomb whose eyes were screwed shut, palms resting on his temple. He gritted his teeth with a pained expression. He wasn't as stable as she thought.
Worse part was; she couldn't do anything. She didn't know what to do.
Phillip swayed in nausea and he looked like he was about to tip over even though he was leaning against the concrete.
Flannery reluctantly walked closer to reach out and steady him, calm him down.
His large calloused hand caught her wrist in flash like a Venus flytrap. Flannery was the epitome of utter terror at this point the situation was so morbidly familiar, so—so surreal that it just seemed like her Post-incident nightmares of the Fair only she was the one being attacked. Not DB, not Ginger or Petunia but her.
Thoughts that spiraled in her head only elicited a panicked reaction and she started furiously trying to jerk her hand from his grip which only caused him to tighten his hold on her wrist until she knew it would bruise.
Coming to the realization that it was useless she stopped completely.
He would always try to strangle her but his grip was always weak with her, nothing serious, Phillip would never hurt her, not hurt her until she broke a bone or bled like that Mime guy.
She felt tears pooling around her eyes, a few already managing slide down her cheeks.
Flannery lifted her eyes to his face.
He simply stared back with what seemed like glowing predatory yellow-green eyes a stark contrast from forest green ones that she's grow much accustomed to. She thought herself bat-shit delusional, that was impossible. This was all in her head, false imagery.
"Don't touch me." He hissed at her between clenched teeth, tightening his bone-crushing grip.
She shook her head, a strangled cry escaping her lips.
And that is when he snapped out of it, blinking his eyes. Phillip hastily let go of her hand as soon as he realized what he was doing.
"God, I-I'm so sorry, Flannery. I didn't mean to—"
Flannery was quick to turn around and just get the hell out of there. Just run away like always whenever this happened. It was like she was pulled back into the past; avoiding her fears and the demon boy she used to, and subconsciously still did, deem as her friend.
She walked past Curt and Whistle who immediately pick up her distress and asked a curious, "What's wrong?"
She plopped herself on the bed in the second room, occupying herself with one of the classical Nancy Drew books the previous occupier kept around, she made sure to pack some of it in her rucksack bag. Flannery kept herself there for the time being, allowing herself to calm down a bit. She was glad neither of her companions decided to go after her.
Flannery locked herself up in the room, as childish as it seemed, until she eventually had to force herself out to get something to eat.
Phillip had long gone up the steps, probably seeing what was in there too as after their short lived dinner, which consisted of the occasional "I'm sorry" and "It's okay", he had insisted that they stay close though they were far from civilization, and that meant less infected.
Phillip had chosen to patrol the area for a short amount of time.
He was pretty damn paranoid, a thing that was usually her trait, and insisted they stick together and stay in the living room aside from splitting up into separate rooms.
And in that time being Flannery had to haul the pillows and mattresses into the living room, with the help of Curt of course.
She laid the mattresses side by side in the middle, pushing back the couch and coffee table to make way for them. Curt hastily dropped the pillows wherever on the mattress. It came with white paper-thin blankets, not that Flannery was complaining—This was much better than sleeping in a tent with the rough earth beneath it.
Phillip came back shortly after.
"Found anything?" she inquired. "Nobody else but us." He shrugged, "But I found something though."
"What is it?" Was all this suspense really needed? Gosh. Phillip simply showed her a key that he explained he had found on the ground. "I think I may know where it goes."
"Got the same hunch, Flakes."
The garage was rather dusty. The dull thrumming of the generator filling in for its lifeless atmosphere. The rangers had two vehicles, which Flannery thought were as dead as the people out there like most of the electronics and tech they had.
"The genny isn't gonna last long." Phillip noted, the generator's oil supply was quite low. She doubted it would even make it to the next day. Flannery made sure to shut off anything they didn't actually need, a habit she picked up from her grandmother. Phillip had told her that he found the garage gate while making sure there wasn't actually anyone else out there.
"It could be only be unlocked from the inside, as far as I could tell. I might've missed the lock. It was dark anyway."
There wasn't anything else interesting in the garage to check out.
When they returned to the main room Curt was simply occupying himself with a coloring book he had found in the bag. They didn't take too long each taking a turn to take a shower, finally after of just hiking around like some born survivor in a TV Show, and it was immediately lights out for everyone.
Flannery was immediately woken up some time in the night by a sudden panicked uproar soon followed by heavy foot falls. She'd noticed that the bathroom's light was on, the door hanging slightly ajar. Beside her Curt and Whistle were asleep, as if they hadn't heard a single thing.
She followed the footsteps she had heard a quiet as a mouse.
Phillip convulsed as he retched. Dry heaving whatever little food he ate. Flannery pushed the door open to allow herself inside. She absolutely stunned.
The fear of repeating the same mistake was so debilitating it rendered her to stand fixed to her spot. Only then when he actually stops and sits in place to compose himself does she even try anything.
She utters a soft "Are you okay?" He obviously isn't. Phillip keeps silent, wiping his mouth with his arm.
Flannery approaches him crouching to his level. She rests a hand on his shoulder, he visibly tenses at that. "Yeah, I'm fine." Lie. They sit there for a while, him taking a breather until he had calmed down enough to move.
Flannery helps him up. He stands on shaking legs as she leads him over to the kitchen. Allowing him to sit down wherever around the dining table.
She offered to get him water while she flicked the light switch on.
"Just—Stay here, okay?"
"I'm not going anywhere."
It took her no time at all to return with a glass, offering it to him. She opted to sit across him; pulling the chair to settle herself down in front of him.
Phillip was as pale as a ghost. He looked quite shaken up and that wasn't a thing Flannery was used to seeing on him. He always seemed so fearless.
He just sat there motionless, riveted to his chair with the glass of water in hand. "Was it another nightmare?" Flannery asked. This wasn't quite new to her. He just looks up at her in affirmation.
"Would you…m-maybe want to talk about it?" she fiddles her thumbs under the table unable to hold eye contact.
"No. It's-It's fine."
It's fine, it's fine. That's what Phillip always says. Whenever anyone tries to help him out at all the only thing he does is push them away to sulk over his God damn problem. He gave up much too early to even be helped.
Flannery frowned, eyebrows scrunched in agitation and dejection. As much as she'd like to call him out on this again she chose not to push him any further, not that she had the energy to do drag this out longer than it needs to be either.
She sighed exaggeratedly she didn't have a short temper but this was beginning to upset her, could be that she was woken up abruptly but it mostly was with the fact that he was just acting the way he did all those years before, one of the reasons why they distanced themselves from each other.
"Okay." Flannery mumbled, eyes downcast to the floor.
"I'm sorry." She looked back up to him again with a questioning look.
"For what?"
"—It's just about the war. You already know that."
" Of course I do."
"Then I don't see why you need to know." Irritation begins keying into his voice.
She stares with surprise at the random bout of anger. Her mouth opens once as if to speak but had immediately shut it when she saw his fist clench around the glass, it looked like it would just break at any minute.
"Phillip I just want to—"
"Phillip I just want to what?" he imitates mockingly, already on his feet. The glass slammed onto the table.
With a fit of confidence she answers, "I just want to help you."
"Help me? Help me how? You can't fucking help me. The pills don't work and all those therapy sessions with that idiot moose of a man don't help either! What makes you think you can fix anything?"
She stands up herself the infuriation boiling in her killing off any feeling of pity or doubt.
"My God, you are such a stubborn child! How do you expect to pull through when you don't even let anyone help you? All you do is mope in your house and keep to yourself!" she bites back, a hand raised and an accusing finger pointing towards the green-eyed man in front of her.
He's undoubtedly seething with hints of surprise at her sudden outburst.
"Well what about you? You've been giving me the damn cold shoulder for years!"
Flannery doesn't give him another second to respond, she groans loudly hands tugging at her wild mess of red hair almost trying to pull them out by roots. She swiftly around to storm out of the kitchen.
"Shit, Flannery. Get back here!" Phillip shouts, regret already flooding in his voice.
He's quick to tread after her. "I'm sorry. Fuck, stop crying."
He found her no doubt tearing up in the room she had locked herself in a while before. She was curled in a little ball a hand kept her folded legs to her chest, front teeth digging into her wobbly lower lip to keep the shaky sobs from escaping. Her free hand was clenched in a fist and furiously rubbed at her already irritated eyes.
Over all she looked like an emotional wreck and she couldn't help but mentally berate herself for being so weak and crying over a stupid fight.
He reached out for her. Flannery flinching at the contact expecting something harsher.
Phillip tugged her hand prying it gently from her face. She was stubborn; quick to snatch it back to herself, easily slipping her hand out of his.
"Stop that."
"Just go away, Phil." Her voice wavered, tremulous with soft sobs. The hand she had just yanked back now on her face, covering the eyes that she had just clinched shut.
Flannery heard the wooden bed frame creak underneath his weight. A pair of arms wrapping around herself and pulling her in. She of course as obdurate as ever, now that she was clearly upset and wishing for privacy, squirmed and pushed him until she was dragged onto his lap in a forced hug.
She forced herself to relax slightly, returning the hug and crying onto his shoulder. A wave of relaxing nostalgia flooded her in; she missed this. Something they used to do for each other. Tori always jokingly coined it as "Feels jamming" and it kind of fit too.
They stayed like that until she calmed down entirely. The red haze of anger lifting from her mind enough for her to remember Curt. She was pretty damn impressed with the fact that the kid hadn't woken up at all even during the shouting match. She expected the dog to come up barking towards them but that never happened.
Seeing as none of them could right away go back to sleep they shared little stories as they did before.
Flannery about her childhood monsters. They took the time to catch up on each other, recalling what they did away from each other's presence. Both laughing about that one time when Phillip lost his shit while his job as a volunteer Librarian and having to kick out a bunch of imbeciles out. The conversation twisted and warped into random topics and time passed quite quickly.
"I was just, scared, you know? I wasn't really thinking either and I'm pretty sorry for losing your knife." Flannery recounted the events prior thoughtfully. "Don't worry, it's with me." Phillip fished out the knife from his pants pocket. He moved his gaze from it to her, "You can have it." He held it out. She accepted it shyly, "Thanks…I guess?" he nodded once with a grin.
Flannery wrapped her fingers around the camper knife contemplating for a bit.
He broke her train of thought with a , "When you think about it you believe that there are so many things you could've done but in the heat of the moment you can't really do anything at all."
She looked up to him again humming for him to continue. "Hell, I used to think that way."
Flannery pushed her legs up to her chest again, the duo having already broke their hugging some time before, she rested her head on her knees already knowing where this was going.
"Back in the war we had this guy, yeah? We called him Rhino mostly because he reminded me, Monty and Sneaks of a Rhino. I would always think he was hopped up on steroids or something—Wait, but that's not the point!"
She couldn't help but giggle, he always rambled.
"Aright, the mission was FUBAR! We were outnumbered and outgunned. I saw it coming before anyone else." He talked animatedly, which she found amusing, a hand lifted up as if to show something falling from the sky.
"I managed to get out of the way just in time when it hit." With his hands he gestured an explosion minus the sound effects.
"I saw the Rhino guy on the ground and I was the closest to him so I immediately had to help him."
His face darkened for a second and she expected the worse.
"What's wrong? Did…he die?" she questioned quietly hazel eyes widening.
"Nah," Phillip snorted with a chuckle, "His face got rearrange though…"
"He told me to kill him and finish him off but I couldn't. I really couldn't. We had to carry him back to take cover though and he just kept pleading for someone to shoot him in the head. We just waited until help came."
"The guy made it but his face was a wreck and apparently he told his buddies that," Phillip coughed, leaning close with the best redneck impression he could muster, "You best tell that sunuva-bitch Orso that I'm gunna kick his ass."
Flannery immediately bursted out laughing because that impression was just down-right terrible, "Then?"
"I got my ass kicked, literally, the end." Phillip clapped his hand together with an amused smirk.
That only caused her laughter to intensify this time joined with a chuckling Phillip
"Guys, I'm trying to sleep!" whined loudly a voice from outside the room.
Oops I accidentally a Southern-ish Flippy.
I am officially the world's slowest author. I promised this three weeks ago, yo.
But here it is! Enjoy! And oh my God it's the longest chapter so far.
EDIT: Fixed some of the errors. If you find anymore notify me!