I know you're anxious, people. Just wait a little longer; everything (or much more) will make sense soon. I've dropped a few hints, but most of them are pretty obscure...


Chapter 11: Out of Character


"How are you feeling?"

The whisper was the first that Isabella could make out as she came to. She blinked her eyes open torpidly to see the blinding sunlight reflecting off of what was once Phineas's orange shirt. It had gone through so much snow, ice, mud, and now blood that she couldn't name the resulting color.

"Hi Phin," Isabella drawled back, a hint of a giggle on her voice as she blinked the bleariness out of her eyes. "Watcha doin'?"

"Cuddling with you," he joked, letting his fingers tease her waist for a second before holding her again. Isabella heart burst with elation as she struggled to think of a witty comeback, but then she remembered the events from the day before.

"Your stomach!" Isabella broke free from Phineas's arms, no matter how much she would rather stay there, and moved to examine his primitive bandages. They were a little off-centered, probably because of her shifting in the night, but still looked relatively clean. She changed them anyways, using the remains of a sleeve from her dress as a new bandage. The skin around his gunshot wound was swollen and red, but at least he didn't have an obvious infection.

"How are you feeling?" Isabella inquired, using the same question he had before. Phineas shrugged, giving her a lopsided grin. She laid a hand on his forehead, checking for a fever, but he seemed cool enough. The cool but most certainly bearable temperature and weather must have helped with that.

It only took a few moments for Isabella to realize that the shock of yesterday had distorted Phineas's judgement for the time being. Rest and recovery was not a priority for him; in his mind, he was ready to leave right then, without the slightest idea of a destination. She refused to let him stand and had to tell him she was starving for breakfast before he stopped. He wouldn't eat at first, claiming he wasn't hungry, but she eventually coaxed him into eating a few bites of a chocolate protein bar. Isabella understood his complaints there; she was absolutely sick of the thick, chalky taste and would give anything for something as simple as a juicy red apple.

After breakfast, Isabella managed to convince Phineas that they needed a plan before heading into the unknown. She wasn't sure if he was well enough to really strategize yet, but with their food supply dwindling, they didn't have time to spare.

To her surprise, Phineas already had a decent idea in mind. "I know it doesn't make sense, but I'm still sure we're on a different planet, and the inhabitants are definitely hostile. The smoke was in that direction—" he pointed down the steep canyon they were in, "—so if we can stay near this warm environment for another night, we won't need our sleeping bags."

"Are you suggesting," Isabella inquired, "that the hot water and whatever else will continue to heat this valley as we travel down it?"

"It might. And if we can get to their base—if that's where the smoke was coming from—and evade the enemies for even half-an-hour, I bet I could use parts from a snowmobile or other mechanical device to invent something to teleport us out of here."

"But what if we get caught?" Isabella asked, trying not to let anxiety slip into her voice. "How can we know they won't try to kill us again?"

He deigned no response. "Phineas," she continued, "if they're going to attack us, that's a problem."

Phineas sighed. "I know, Isabella," he muttered, sounding somewhat exasperated, "but I don't see what else we can do."

"You don't think we'd have to … fight back, do you?"

"If that's what it takes to get us home, then maybe we will," Phineas replied somberly.

Phineas seemed a little more back to his usual self after the planning, even if the longing for home was affecting his mood as well. After proving to Isabella that he could walk safely, he agreed to rest for an extra hour or so before moving on. What we really need is a day of recovery, she thought, but we can't afford that without more food. In the meantime, she grabbed her snow gear in case it got too cold and decided to explore the area.

Isabella had no means of crossing the turbulent river, but she noticed that side they had banked on was spotted with more of the hot springs pools they had found, many with small streams. Several pools had more splotches of the white, bubbly plants they had slept on.

Suddenly, Isabella had an idea. Could the white plants be used as food? she thought. We could boil scraps in one of the hottest pools to remove contaminants. She crouched down to pry one bubble from the white blanket. Despite its softness, it would not come off. She tried using her fingernails to saw off a portion, but no matter how hard she cut, pulled, or kicked, the bubbles wouldn't come off. Just like the tube-trees, which they had never found broken or damaged, these plants were apparently indestructible. So much for that idea, she thought glumly.

As Isabella headed upstream, she dipped her finger in various ponds to test their temperature. Most were too hot, and some even scalded her hand. When the terrain grew too steep in places and ended in sheer cliffs in others, halting her journey, she thought they were all near boiling point, but hidden behind a massive boulder, one secluded pool with a trickle of faraway snowmelt draining into it was about the heat of a spa.

Spas. Even thinking of it made Isabella nostalgic about her home in the Tri-State Area. There they had they had running water, bathrooms, no need to worry about starvation, and what she was now yearning for most, showers. Isabella hadn't showered in days, and even after their unfortunate swim the day earlier, she was disgusting. Mud and other substances were practically slathered over her clothes and body, and the blood from her and Phineas's injuries was still caked underneath her dirty fingernails. Looking down at her reflection in one the pool, Isabella practically screamed. Her normally black hair was stringy and brown, and her face too had dirt, stains, and bruises all over.

This pool's cool enough for me and shallow enough to wade in, Isabella thought, conjuring up a new idea. Phineas won't be awake for at least another half-hour, maybe I can take a dip. And then, feeling as though she was being selfish, she decided that she would tell Phineas later in case he wanted to clean up as well.

Out of habit, Isabella glanced around to make sure she had privacy, then flushed at her silliness. The only person in this canyon was Phineas, and he was far away and most certainly out of sight. She double checked the water, and satisfied with the result, undressed and waded in.

Isabella had never appreciated hot water before as much as she did now. It soothed her bruises from the river rocks, relaxed muscles that felt like they had been tense for weeks, and loosened all the grime that had accumulated all over her. She let herself float in the pool for a few minutes, letting the water rush over her face and just enjoying the marvellous sensation.

Next, Isabella began to tenderly rub her arms and legs clean, cringing slightly as she worked over bruises and cuts. Her raw skin had an unhealthy pallor from malnutrition and the cold, but at least she had avoided more serious injuries like frostbite. She tried washing out her clothes, but faint marks on her ripped dress and undershirt remained. At least it keeps me covered up, she thought.

"Isabella?" Her head shot up to see Phineas leaning against the huge boulder, his gaze sweeping around the pool in confusion. Isabella shrieked and dove into the pool, frantically trying to cover herself. How long had he been standing there? She waited as long as she could under the water, then poked her head above for a breath.

Phineas was gone. "Stay away, Phineas!" Isabella called, scared to leave the steaming pool and reveal herself. When nobody replied, she scrambled out and donned her undergarments, then looking at her sopping clothes, pulled on the dry coat and snow pants instead. "You can come now," she replied, beginning to feel the blood rushing to her cheeks in embarrassment.

Phineas stepped out from behind the boulder, a twisted expression of irritance and perhaps amusement on his face.

"Did you see me?" Isabella asked, hiding her beet red face in her hands. Phineas would never let her forget this moment, no matter how nice he was.

"No," he replied, looking at the pink dress she was still holding in slight confusion, "But why were you swimming? I couldn't find you anywhere."

"I know, I'm sorry," she replied, "I didn't think you'd finish your rest that fast. I was just cleaning myself off, do you want to take a turn—"

"You were taking a bath?" he interrupted in disbelief. She nodded slowly, taken aback by the anger in his voice. His eyes narrowed. "We have two days of food left, armed enemies hunting us down, unpredictable earthquakes left and right, and here you are, frolicking in a bubble bath. Cmon, let's get going." And with that, Phineas turned and strode away. In a different context, Isabella would have guessed that he was just teasing her, but she could clearly see his annoyance and disappointment. She silently followed after him.

Isabella was ashamed. Phineas was right; what was she doing wasting her time when they had to survive? She should have come back right away and aroused him. He had a right to feel irritated, as the use of their time affected his survival just as much as it did hers. She needed to make amends.

Isabella tried catching up and walking beside him as they normally did, but he always heightened his pace until she gave up. When they got back to camp a few minutes later, the sun was high in the sky, but it didn't make her feel any better. As they packed up their very few belongings and began heading downstream, she planned out what she was going to say, restless to break down the growing barrier between them.

"I really am sorry, Phineas," Isabella finally began several minutes later. "I was being stupid, and that affects you just as much—"

"Look, I don't care about some pitiful little apology you've thought out, so shut it," he snapped, completely disregarding Isabella's shocked and hurt expression.

She hung her head, beginning to fight back tears. Was I really that foolish? she thought, trailing behind him and wishing they could speak.

"Please, Phi-"

"I. Don't. Care."

Why is Phin so mad at me? Isabella thought, wiping her eyes. It couldn't have just been her mistake with the bath that was making him so indignant. Had something happened to him while she was away? Was he just feeling homesick, or hurting in his stomach?

It took another few minutes for Isabella to gather her courage to speak. "Phin?" she asked tentatively, "is something wrong?" She looked up and meant to touch his hand, but Phineas was gone.

"Phineas?" she called, looking around. To her surprise, Phineas was in a patch of some new species of plants a few feet to the side, examining one. They looked like long, spiky red tufts of grass but were a little thicker, like seaweed. As she approached them, a sweet, attractive scent filled her nostrils.

A flame of frustration flared inside of her. "Have you forgotten our agreement?" she called, "We only look at new plants together. How do we know if those aren't harmful?"

"Whatever," he muttered, trying to pull one out of the ground to no avail. "I found some of these a while ago when I was searching for you, and I'm not dead yet."

"What has gotten into you today?" Isabella demanded, annoyed. Phineas once again ignored her comment and continued walking downstream, abandoning her. She stifled another sour remark and stole after him, something that was becoming a pattern.

Phineas wasn't suffering from some hidden pain, he was just being plain rude. Why he was being rude she couldn't understand, but she was quickly growing angry herself. He broke our rule by looking at a new species, and who knows how long he wasted smelling them? She knew she shouldn't make assumptions, but it still seemed like he was being a hypocrite.

Maybe it's that plant, Isabella thought, thinking of the overly attractive aroma of the red grass. Maybe he just got drawn to it and the scent mixed up his brain, making him angry.

As she thought about it, the idea seemed more and more plausible. When she had gone near the red grass she had become irritated too. Plus, Phineas rarely got angry at her or anyone, let alone to the shouting point.

Could it be? Had Phineas's mind been altered by that red grass's scent?


Yes, Phineas is totally out of character. I hope the chapter title helped you out on that one. But why?! It will make sense eventually!

Also, did Anyone Appreciate Any of the Above Alliterations Ancluded An A-my Actual A-chapter A? :A

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~Word of the Week~

Nostalgic • Nos (like 'boss') + t + jik (like 'kick') Verb

- a sentimental yearning for the happiness of a former place or time

No, this word has nothing to do with nostrils, and I'm glad ;) A nostalgic person is someone who wishes they could go back to a happier time in there life; they miss something from before. Many retired athletes are nostalgic about the time they were able to perform the best, as are many people nostalgic about their carefree, fun childhood. From the story: "Spas. Even thinking of it made Isabella nostalgic about her home in the Tri-State Area." The hot pools reminded Isabella of the luxury of hot tubs and showers, and she began to miss them. Thus, she was becoming nostalgic about home.