"If the present were not so horrible and grim, and the future so mysterious and enigmatic, one could go mad with joy." - Konstantin Kavelin
The sun had begun to make its descent to the horizon.
The dimming late-afternoon light, which otherwise would be blinding them with its warmth, was curtailed by the developing presence of clouds. It was overcast, and the golden rays of the sun were diminished significantly, leaving a gloomy orange hue that hung over Arkadia and Blackwell's heights.
The Arkadia Fire Department had contained the fires that broke out in Pan Estates to the town's north. The hounds had done a number on the settlement and its population, and the fire crews could not maintain efforts to both Pan Estates and Blackwell simultaneously. It is only now, once the fighting was over that the department's EMTs rolled their ambulances up the street and carried out their jobs to stabilize the situation.
Despite their small presence, the firemen and medical technicians were of greater number compared to the now decimated police force. The fires that had consumed the police cruisers of the first responders were put out, and the EMTs were quickly directed to the wounded persons that needed treatment. The bodies of both Prescott and his right-hand man, along with the fallen men of the ABPD were sealed in body bags and immediately evacuated.
The three lads who had switched sides against Nathan, formally identified as Andrew Berry, Zachary Riggins, and Logan Robertson, were absolved of their weapons and taken under direct custody by the new police captain, Lieutenant Corn. This order was given under the circumstances that Anderson Berry, captain of the ABPD and father of Andrew Berry, had been among the first responders and had perished in the ensuing firefight; Andrew, along with Zach and Logan, gave themselves up willingly and were taken to the police station in Arkadia proper via the lone police cruiser still available.
The rest of the hounds, under the supervision of Madsen and the newly christened Officer Matthews, were stripped of all of their possessions and were arrested. They were forced to lie down in the open field outside the campus and await the arrival of that single remaining police car, after which a couple of them would be driven to the station until they were all in police custody.
The local news outlet, upon hearing the sporadic fighting from the heights above the town, sent a news team at the first sign of action. Realizing there was no way to actually film the events without the risk of being shot themselves, the news crew had set up down the stretch of the road leading up to the academy and reported to the public about the unfolding of the Battle of Blackwell.
So then this news team, along with other media outlets responding to the crisis from outside the town, wasted no time swooping in like vultures upon the scene once the situation was under Madsen's control. The news anchors and their camera crews spared no mercy to the hounds, poking them with questions, even badgering the EMTs and creating a scuffle at the academy entrance. Since Officer Matthews was the only active supporting element Madsen had on the scene, he found himself harassed by the flock of reporters as they demanded to be let inside. Yet Matthews stood fast to his guarding of the entrance to the main building and negated the vultures with a subtle nod to the Bear, who commanded them to cease with but a simple frown.
A pile of gear and another for weapons lied close to Madsen, and it was by his decree that all of the girls come out and surrender their equipment, to which they complied.
Max laid her rifle down in the pile and trudged tiredly to the cluster of her comrades who'd been ordered to stay close to the scene and not wander off, at Madsen's insistence. The mousy brunette clambered over to a spot on the curb, sitting down to Chloe's left, and Juliet's right. For her part, Watson never took her eyes away from the ambulance that her best friend was being carried in, watching it drive down the curve of the road and out of sight. Beside her, the rest of Juliet's group sat hunched, with droopy eyelids and heads hung low.
Max looked to the bluenette beside her and was given a tired glance, as Price pulled her knees up and rested her head upon them. Off to Chloe's side sat Kate, who stared down at a lone yellow dandelion, its petals had been damaged, and its stem nearly torn from its root.
They were tired. The fighting had sapped them of strength, had bled them of any illusions.
Victoria and her aides looked no better than them. Courtney was sputtering something to Taylor, still shivering, still terrified of her own shadow. Max couldn't hate Wagner, even despite her actions and the things she said. Taylor had one ear for Courtney's murmurs and the other for Victoria, who showed her exhaustion with a pinching frown. Chase held herself proper; back straight, arms at the ready, awaiting the next moment just like the last. And when Max looked beyond the cluster of her sisters-in-arms, she understood why.
The vultures, now adamant for their pound of flesh, made their way closer and closer to the girls and circled around this cluster of them. It seemed that these reporters were deterred by the hovering, intimidating Bear in their midst. Annoyed by the intrusion, Madsen was quick to order the girls to the dorm building, that they ought to stay there until they would be needed by the Arkadia PD or other authorities. Once they left the Bear's protection, the eleven girls were picked and clawed at all the way.
"Excuse me, I'm with the local news station based in Tillamook, would you be so kind as to answer these few questions—"
"How would you describe what you experienced during the school shooting—?"
"Were any of those lost to the gunmen close to you, by any chance—?"
They just made it to the corridor when Stella, tired and with a dusty, grimacing brow, rounded on the heel-grating reporters, her voice raw with anger, "That's it—FUCK OFF, ALL OF YOU! Leave us alone, verdammte—!"
A hand clamped over the ebony brunette's mouth mid-rant, and Juliet tersely replied, "No Comment," before pushing Stella towards the gate, the handheld microphones being shoved into their backs as the vultures leapt at them with more questions.
A commotion came from beyond their sight, and with a coordinated swiftness those vultures swung away, having been attracted to something more appealing than the hot words and cold shoulders given to them.
Stella pulled from the reporter's grip when the horde of busybodies flocked away, muttering indignantly, "It's not like any of this shit matters, anyways—!"
"That's not the point, Stella," Watson chided, "You give an inch, and they'll take a mile. You just don't tell them anything; you keep your mouth shut, that's it."
Shaking her head, huffing her frustration, the ebony brunette walked with Juliet towards the rest of the weary figures that shuffled into the dorm building, "You saw the way they fuckin' hounded Dana when they were taking her away, like as if she was gonna tell them anything about what happened! It's bullshit, holmes!"
"I know," Juliet sighed as they entered the dorm building, "…I know."
With a slouch, the ten girls trudged up the stairs they trudged up countless times before, like routine. They wiped away the grit from their eyes, sleepy and deprived of any flickering flame, stiff-legged and sour-faced. No one muttered a word as they slumped into their little comforting shells and disappeared from the outside world.
Afternoon had turned to early evening, and the sun peeked from behind the clouds with its golden glow, gleaming a last goodbye before night would soon turn. The policemen hadn't bothered the girls since they were dismissed by Madsen, and they silently welcomed the idea that they could be alone for now, free from the stress.
Max, Chloe, and Kate had been invited to Dana's room, at the insistence of Juliet and her diminished company. Watson's quartet were in low spirits over the loss of one of their own and took to themselves by attentively watching the news on Dana's TV, waiting for the commercials to run their course. It was here Max beheld the strange sight of the quartet sitting before her, exhausted from having trudged through the fire like herself, yet still had the diligence to tidy their absent friend's quarters. Whatever mess that may have existed was fixed, and this quartet now waited with that rapt feeling of anxiety as they observed the television.
Max's trio settled on the floor beside them, next to the occupied couch and the small table covered with sodas and spare chips. Timid moments were spent exchanging greetings, the intermittent silence was often broken by the sound of someone opening a fresh bag of chips, or nervous chewing.
"We come back to you, live from Tillamook, on K-BAY7 News Special Report," the spokesman's voice was a calling to the girls as they rose up from their slump and listened carefully, "Good evening everyone, I'm Tim Patterson and welcome back to another segment on the dramatic situation developing along the Oregon coast. This Friday afternoon, a horrific series of events have played out in a quiet coastal town just to the north of Tillamook."
The shot cut to their home's welcoming sign just outside of the town limits, "It was not even a few hours ago in the small town of Arkadia, in which a mob of gunmen armed with assault rifles and machine guns had sprung up from the populous and laid siege to this small fishing hub. Following the initial reports coming in earlier today over fires erupting in a suburban section of the town called Pan Estates—K-BAY7 news reporter Cary Lügner is on the ground right now at Blackwell Academy giving us the latest on what's going on, Cary?"
The station had switched to live footage of the front of the school, and the reporter—Ms. Lügner—stood in the foreground. Behind her was the sight of firemen and officers passing in and out of frame, and farther behind them, the still charred wrecks of the police cruisers.
"Well Tim, it's been some time now since the battle had ceased, yet still behind me there are officers and firefighters gathered at the front of the school here—" the camera pans to the right, zooming in to the far end of the campus, where the remaining of Prescott's hounds were shoved into the back of a decorated crown vic, "it is only now that the last of these gunmen are being taken to the small Arkadia police station, and from what it looks like, they'll be held there until their trial is determined—"
Max glanced to the surrounding faces, and observed the scowls, aimed with all their bitter, burning hatred at the TV. They knew the trial, if the world would permit one, would be brushed under the spotlight.
"—now we've just got done talking with the Chief of Police, and they have just stated that there have been an estimated twenty-nine confirmed dead in the shooting, among those were the lives of a handful of students, the several officers responding to the shooting, and several faculty members including the school principal, Mr. Raymond Wells..."
Twenty-nine.
Max's eyes darted to the sound of crumpling plastic, as the chip-bag in Chloe's hand was abruptly squeezed of life. The bluenette's face was indescribably blank, and her stare was hollow.
"...thankfully, the students who managed to escape were found unharmed and hiding in the nearby gymnasium, just beside the scene of the battle," and the camera panned to view the front of the main building, zooming in at the jagged, scarring shards of the glass panes, the windows of the second floor and the bricks stood peppered with bullet holes.
"Now if you can look closely Tim, you'll see the, uhm…the many bullet holes all over the face of the building, and it just shows how immense the chaos was just hours ago. Now, from what we were able to gather when it comes to testimony from those in the midst of the fighting, it wasn't just the terrorists that were also armed—from what we could discern, there were also students that were armed as well—"
"Wait, Cary, are you saying the students armed themselves alongside the gunmen?" Mr. Patterson suddenly inquired. The footage now transitioned to a bird's eye view of the Academy, and here the girls witnessed the totality of the damage.
"Not exactly Tim—it is hard to tell exactly what went down, however it seemed like these students armed themselves against the gunmen, but again, we are not able to confirm this at this time. As of now, we'll be trying to reach out to the local PD to see what they have to say on this matter, but until then we'll be on the ground looking out for any new developments on this story, back to you."
The camera cut to Mr. Patterson.
"Well, thank you Cary, we'll be looking forward to hearing more from you about the victims caught up in this terrible act of violence. Coming up, more on the statement by the President of the United States concerning the increasing riots in the Pacific Northwest and the debate on whether law-abiding citizens should legally own high-capacity assault weapons—"
The audio cut then, muted at the press of a button, and the girls looked to Watson, who set the remote down on the table and sighed.
"That's it, huh?"
Chloe's head did a double-take from Juliet to the muted TV, then finally back to the bronze-brunette, "What? What do you mean, That's it?"
A scoff, then came withering chuckles, "They're not gonna waste any more time on us, they've covered everything," the reporter muttered cynically, "They've got better things to talk about than us now. Anything else they come up with, will be passed off like a brush of the shoulder."
Glances were passed around, but no one spoke.
"They didn't even mention Dana."
The room felt cold, then. Even within the huddle of them, there existed no warmth. Some clutched at their arms, shivering.
Alyssa swiftly rose from her spot on the bed and muttered something about needing to use the bathroom. No one said anything about the shimmering remnants of tears on her arms that had been wiped away, as the stocky girl took her leave.
"S-she isn't gonna die, you saw it," Stella reassured, looking pointedly to the slouching bronze-brunette, "she'll be fine, she'll live, and we'll go see her; when they let us visit we'll all go see her, who's with me?"
Brooke nodded adamantly, and so too did Max and her friends. They had no reason not to. They protected their own now, no matter what.
Emboldened, Stella swiped the remote and unmuted the TV, just in time for the next segment to come back on.
"—coming back to you now, with more breaking developments on the Blackwell situation: current Head of Security for Blackwell Academy, David Madsen, will now give K-BAY7 news an official statement on just what happened following the events that unfolded, we take you to that now," and the camera switched from Mr. Patterson, sitting pristinely at his anchor's desk with a calming smile, to a worn down, tired looking David Madsen. The slight sheen of sweat upon his face was noticeable in the camera's light, as early evening was setting in. All that stood resilient to time was the man's frown, which the girls could tell was as sharp and demanding as when they were present.
"At around twelve fifty-three in the afternoon, the first reports of gunshots came in," Madsen gruffed out, "and within the following hour, any students and teachers still inside the main building, including the surrounding dorms, were taken hostage by these gunmen, who we know were directly led by Nathan Prescott. These insurgents had spent their time preparing for a response by the Arkadia Police Department, and a brief stalemate occurred following the arrival of the first responders. Any attempt at negotiation was rejected or ignored. Sometime past thirteen hundred hours, the stalemate was broken, and a firefight broke out across the quad."
Madsen's eyes glanced to something beyond the camera's peripheral, and the grimace tightened, "All six of the first responders were KIA after the firefight ended, and due to a preceding investigation undertaken by the department, all PD units still active could not respond to the situation until another half hour."
"Sir, if I may ask," the reporter—Ms. Lugner, if the girls remembered right—inquired of Madsen, "what preceding investigation was the Arkadia PD so focused on before the shooting?"
"That is beyond my knowledge, nor am I allowed to disclose anything I know," he deflected, "what I will say is that a single unit consisting of Captain Corn, Cadet Matthews, and myself, arrived on the scene at around thirteen-forty hours, and de-escalated the situation until more officers could arrive. Nathan Prescott, along with a fellow insurgent, attempted to engage as we approached, and were fatally shot by myself and a friendly Blackwell student, who was armed."
Madsen gathered his breath, and spoke firmly again, "Following the surrender of the insurgents, it was determined that the students who were also armed were not in any way cooperating with these insurgents, and by the respective opinion of both myself and the acting Police Chief, contributed to saving the lives of their classmates. Had these select few not took up arms against the insurgents, it is likely that their fellow peers in hiding, who could not entirely remove themselves from danger, would have been hunted down by those gunmen."
"As of now," Madsen continued, "all remaining insurgents have been arrested and will reside in the town's jail up until their expected trial. Until then, we will be coordinating with the Fire Department to clear the wreckage. That is all."
The feed cut back to Mr. Patterson, "Well, there it is folks, it seems now we can rest well tonight knowing that the crisis in small-town Arkadia is under control. Unfortunately, this cannot be said for what's going on farther up north, as the week-long protesting in Seattle and Portland has now surged with dramatic intensity, in line with the grievances over the extended curfew issued by the states' governors earlier this week. Coming to you with a live feed of Seattle downtown is Terry Jones at the epicenter of the rioting, Terry, how is the situation up there?"
The feed transitioned to a helicopter's view, and what drew the girls' eyes were the columns of black smoke, trailing up into the sky from their sources, a wide and random selection of burning buildings in the sea of that urban jungle. Further in the background, stood the mighty towers of the city, and the smooth shape of the Space Needle off to the right side, obscured by the smoke.
"It is not looking good, Tim," Mr. Jones spoke prominently over the din of the heli, "latest reports by the Seattle PD have a contingent of the mob currently moving south along Fourth Avenue towards Pioneer Square, and from what we can see up here, it looks like the police are having a hard time containing the flow of these people as they move. Now keep in mind Tim, these—the protestors started out up near Shoreline and have made their way down to the heart of Seattle, but things are looking worse for wear as the police have shut down the 520 and I-90 highways leading eastwards to Bellevue and Mercer Island respectively," the camera panned left, and from the edge of the screen the girls could see the outline of Mercer Island, untouched in quite contrast with the trail of fires dotting the metropolitan center, "and as you can see, the trail of destruction starts at the south side of Lake Union and continues all the way down to where these protestors are right now, and we could be seeing the whole of the city be wracked with these minor fires for a good couple days—"
"Terry, if I may add," the feed panned right in tangent with the helicopter, and here the girls could see that the destruction was not as contained as they were told. In the dimness of evening light, bright flickers of flame rose from the outer edges of Seattle, barely visible, yet so glaring in the dark, "the mayor of Seattle had been cutting down drastically on their police force, as it was deemed to be the main problem of the people living inside the city—so the Mayor had appeased them and given them what they want, and now we're seeing things like this?"
"I reckon that's got something to do with it," Jones continued, "but as it stands, this still remains a mostly peaceful protest, and should hopefully devolve into something the police can handle in the coming days."
It became apparent to Max, along with the others watching the destruction, that there was no such thing as the devolving of violence. Already had the camera panned further out, and the sky grew dark, giving vibrancy to the growing specks of flame. Like cancer did these flames spread, and only time would tell how much will wither, and burn.
The fires of revolution.
Max feels the creeping pressure in her chest and shakes away the terrible thought of her parents sheltered somewhere in that dark expanse, surrounded by those fires. They will manage, she assumes. They will persevere. They have to.
A knock quickly sounded from the door, and Alyssa peeked in, a bit winded in her speech, "Guys, you gotta see this—in the lounge, quick!"
Someone turned the TV off, and they all leapt at the beckoning call.
The voices could be heard even before the girls had made it to the entrance of the lounge, and with careful steps did they make their way into this open space. They were met with a gathering of people. These were elders, the parents of students both alive and dead, and a couple of somber police officers. These adults, mothers and fathers in ones and twos now hovered close to their respective children, and what chatter the girls could decipher were elations, a general atmosphere of relief.
However, some of those parents did not share that contagious elation. One could see it in how these poor mothers and fathers wandered aimlessly amongst the crowds. Those worried brows made themselves known and were the quickest to look upon Max and her companions, desperately searching for a name and face. For some of these mothers and fathers, their frowns showed that mounting anxiety, but for others, smiles bloomed as they skirted towards the girls, a hasty pace expressed their sudden joy.
"There she is!"
"Mom, Dad?"
"Oh, my baby—!"
Caulfield watched as Stella, who had walked just ahead of her, was engulfed in an embrace by a woman with short, smooth shoulder-length hair and chocolate skin, who Max could only assume was Stella's mother. Her father, a towering pillar of a man, with a beautifully trimmed beard and jubilant eyes, came up and took mother and daughter into his arms, and Max could hear the relief in his deep voice, "I cannot thank the heavens enough that you're still here, Tochter."
Both the parents could not see what Max witnessed whereupon looking to her shorter friend, for Caulfield saw the disbelief in Stella's eyes as her elders doused her with love. Max swore she saw the glimmer of tears, but she chose to look away, feeling intrusive over such a private moment.
"I 'eard what the news said on the TV, an' I came as fast as I could from work—" the mousy brunette's attention then shifted over to a cluster of people, and there amongst them were Juliet and Alyssa. Watson was being bearhugged by her talking mother, who's New English accent was very prominent amongst the commotion, "—your father'll hav'to fly in from Idaho, they don't have any safe places left since the riots started up there, I'm so happy you're a'right," Mrs. Watson ended the bear hug and fretted over the few straggles of loose hair on her daughter's head, much to Juliet's muttering protest, "I heard about what happened to Dana from her parents, Phyrra and John. They rushed to the 'ospital as fast they could when they found out. Were you with her, dear?"
Beside the thickset, curly-haired woman, Alyssa stood alongside her father, who's gym shirt did nothing but give an outline to his muscled upper torso. A black baseball cap covered his head, and his eyes were concerned as he looked on to the conversation. Max noticed he had an arm around his daughter's shoulder, and when Mrs. Watson had mentioned the Ward family, he pulled his daughter close to him like a shield, as an anchor. At the mentioning of Dana's predicament, Alyssa dared not look up from the ground.
"I was, mom," Juliet murmured, Max could barely hear it, "Dana—she got knocked in the head, pretty bad. I didn't know what to think then, an' I still don't," there was a hesitation in Watson's eyes, a guessing game was being waged over if she'd risk telling her mother exactly how Dana was knocked out, about how close Ward was—and by extension, Juliet herself—to the terrible whims of chance.
"Look at them all," came a soft whisper, and Max glanced to Kate hovering beside her, enamored by the solemn and sweet reunions happening around them. And it was true, this sentiment that Marsh was pointing towards—that essence tugging at their hearts. For Max and Kate could not share this sentiment with their companions, what with their own mothers and fathers being so far out of reach, so far away.
"It's beautiful," Marsh whispered again.
Max swept her gaze back again to those teary-eyed mothers, and the straight brows of fathers in relief, and wished to see her own parents then. Perhaps they'd emerge from this crowd to give her a chiding on the danger she dared to place herself in. Max wished for nothing more than to assure her mother that she was still very much in one piece, and how she wished to tell her father what mighty perils she undertook, and then be able to look them both in the eyes and say she loved them once more.
Someday, one day. I shall go back home.
"It is," Max replied, "Yes, it is."
"Oh, Chloe—!" came a sudden cry, and Max swiveled farther to her side to see Joyce whisk the unsuspecting punk into a tight embrace. Said punk stiffened like a board, easing up only when her mother lamented again, "I was so worried when I got back home and none of y'all were there, and then David called, saying you were in trouble, and the news—!"
"Mom, it's fine, I'm fine," Price cut in, and hugged her mother back solemnly, "I'm fine, I'm okay. So's Max and Kate, they're okay, Mom."
Max's heart wept as much as Joyce, whose tears fell from her eyes and were wiped away with a brushing of her hand, "Oh, where are they? Where's Max and Kate—"
Caulfield glanced back to Marsh, who glanced back in agreement, and together they made themselves known, quickly walking over to mother and daughter.
Max put on a sad smile once Joyce noticed them and slipped into that welcoming hug of her godmother earnestly, "We're sorry to make you worry, Joyce."
The elder Price knew she couldn't speak anymore without sputtering into sobs, and so she expressed this relief by holding Max close. Ever strong and stubborn she was, even in sorrow.
Kate was also spared no mercy to Joyce's teary embrace, but the ragged blonde held no restraint this time. Gone were the formalities, and in their place was a respectful appreciation, as Kate hugged Chloe's mother as fiercely as she could.
"Heaven's on my side, having you two here for my Chloe," her mother praised, "I thought the worst had happened, driving up here and seeing all the police and EMTs, I heard that some students got hurt and I couldn't help but think it was y'all," a shaky hand wiped the tears away, "I was so scared—I can only imagine how it was."
The trio felt the same way.
And Max was ready to placate the elder Price, but hesitated, as Joyce's worries shifted to the blonde next to her, "Katie-dear, what happened to your hair?"
"Um—" and Kate fidgeted under the unexpected scrutiny, she was never one to make a good lie and she wasn't prepared to tell the truth. So she floundered, and that panic seized Max as well, who stuttered out, "She was, well—she uhm…"
"She cut her hair."
The mother looked to her daughter, who was stone-faced, unflinching, "I told her she'd look good with short hair, and Max helped her cut it. I told them to do it in the yard outside, didn't want you to start ragging on me with a sink full of hair to clean up."
As Joyce looked back to them, Max did what she knew best—play the part of the embarrassed fool. Caulfield braced for a tirade, but a wispy chuckle sounded instead. While Joyce's eyes never changed from their worried state, she had a smile at least, and the girls clung to that smile for assurance, "Please, having some loose hair in the backyard is the least of my worries now."
"Y'know, I haven't seen David around," Joyce continued, looking around the lounge, "have any y'all seen him?"
All three shook their heads, "We didn't see him 'till after what happened…well, happened. He told us to go back to the dorms after it all went down," Max explained.
"I should've known, he's been elusive ever since he called me," a pensive frown, followed by another smile, "I'll be looking for him, he's sure to be around here somewhere. Y'all take care of yourselves, now."
Another round of hugs, and Joyce left them to it. Max breathed easier, keeping her godmother from the bitter truth.
"Thanks for that, Chloe. I don't know if I could make something up in time—"
"She knows," the frown Chloe had was worrisome, even more so than her mother's, "she knows something's up. Don't thank me for that."
Kate was brushing a hand against the back of her head, feeling the poorly cut strands. Max suspected it was the first time that the blonde was aware of how drastically different she looked from before.
There was nothing left for them here now. Already were some of the other families saying their goodbyes, them and their children leaving the lounge slowly, tiredly. Some parents were clutching each other close, realizing their children were not here, nor could ever be here again.
"Come on, let's go back up."
They moved for the doors. Chloe expressed her tiredness with a hunch in her gait, and Kate seemed out of it, constantly fiddling with her terribly short hair. Only Max took notice of Brooke, who sat in one of the few chairs placed against the wall near the exit. The Filipina had her phone clutched in her hands, and sat hunched.
"Brooke?"
Brooke raised her head, but didn't immediately respond. Those tired brown eyes swept the remnants of the crowd, looking for something that wasn't there. Max looked back as well, trying to see something, anything.
"My parents," she eventually muttered, "They couldn't make it."
Max had no clue what Brooke's parents were like, and those still in the lounge seemed like they couldn't be either. All Caulfield could offer was a hand to the girl's shoulder, and a squeeze of support.
"Did...did something happen to them?"
"I don't know," came the hollow reply. Brooke's phone looked heavy in her hands, "they haven't responded to my texts."
"...what about Warren?"
Max knew that Brooke had been seeking for him after she had rejected his love, but where exactly the girl was along that route, Max didn't know. The tired sigh Brooke gave made it seem grim.
"He's back at the boys' dorms, surrounded by security. They're keeping everyone away from the building, no one goes in or out," Brooke looks down at her phone, and Max sees the text bubbles on the screen, "I just want to see him."
The mousy brunette had nothing to say for her friend. But she held true, and kept her hand upon Brooke's shoulder, a silent promise being offered. Eventually, Brooke raised her own hand and placed it upon Caulfield's, appreciative despite the pain, despite the lingering pangs of jealousy. They were no longer bound by the unspoken rivalry, but to a new creed of camaraderie.
Max bid her sister-in-arms farewell and made for the lounge's exit.
The truck jostled whereupon striking a small pothole in the road, the contents in the bed of the vehicle swaying from the impact. Hands clutched at the luggage a bit harder once the truck regained its balance. A pair of tired eyes looked into the truck's cab, looking past the windshield to see the amount of road left for them to travel. Mom and Dad said the next stop was due within a mile or so, but it's hard to tell how long they've traveled already.
She wipes her brow; the sweat still there even after being assailed by the cold wind. Ducking into her little corner in the truck bed, she grips at the luggage and looks back from where their truck was driving away from.
A loose chain of vehicles followed after them. The headlights shined in the dimness of evening, where not even the vibrance of the trees could be distinguished from the black of night. Behind the cars, the black sky covered the horizon, but between this sky and the tips of shadowed trees, a ring of orange glow flickered. The flames have burned for hours now, and it was likely that by the time they stopped burning, that nothing of her hometown would remain.
River Schwartz sniffled, the scent of burnt wood assailed her sense of smell and left her eyes stinging with tears. Her blonde hair, done up in a low hanging ponytail, felt dry and scratchy on the back of her neck.
It had come as quickly as a thunderstorm. First, it was the rolling percussion of distant explosions from the town's center. Then the local news channel from the TV spoke of vicious fighting in the town hall, in the post office, the police department, in every building they could name. Mom got a call from Dad an hour later, and between her and River they packed as much as they could before he pulled up in the family truck, having left from his work as quickly as he could. The Schwartz family were on the road and out of town by the time the gunshots had traveled to the surrounding neighborhoods, advancing ever slowly from its epicenter.
Every memory of her childhood flashed before her eyes as she watched the orange glow illuminate the night sky. All those moments that were once tangible now vanished like embers in the wind, names and faces of people she'd met and became friends with were swept from memory. The entirety of her world was washed away.
The truck jostled again, but this time they arrived at their destination. A gravel road led off the highway and into a rest-stop, already packed with cars and people. River could see militiamen gather along the outskirts of this congested shelter, rifles glinting off red taillights as they rushed to their positions. Shouts carried over the rumble of engines as the truck pulled up to the edge of the rest-stop, there by a row of large awnings giving shelter to dozens of inhabitants. Over yonder, a large outhouse made of brick and mortar stood.
"You can stop clinging to that, y'know," a solemn voice spoke.
River turned to her father standing beside the truck bed, his trucker's cap silhouetting his face. With a cough, she let go of the luggage and pulled herself up and out of her spot, taking her father's hand as she jumped down to the ground.
"I'm going to help her get the truck set up for when we need to get some sleep," he gestured to Mom fretting over a spare suitcase, pulling from it some blankets and pillows, "Go ahead and stretch or run to the bathroom if you need."
He said nothing more, and left River to wander through the cluttered surroundings.
She saw only anxious, tiresome glares as she walked amongst the rest of those people huddled under the awnings. She thought to relieve herself in the bathrooms but dissuaded that idea once witnessing the long lines surrounding the large structure. Even despite having separate sections for men and women, it wasn't enough to cater to the hundreds gathered here. She decided the bushes were her best bet.
She came back from her trip to the sight of campfires, hastily constructed near the concrete pads and ringed by small stones. The night was descending with a frigid chill, and even her jacket wasn't going to be enough to keep her warm.
River saw company over by one of these fires. A gathering of boys roughly her age sat around a particular blaze, clutching at their overcoats and spare water bottles. They longed for the same thing she did, that tugging of the heartstrings telling her she shouldn't be here. None of them should be here. Their world has been set alight, and the best they've done is turned tail to run away.
With a sigh, River turns away—
—and bumps into a girl, the carton of items in her arms nearly falling as she flinched.
"Ah—shit, I'm sorry," River quickly stammered, but is met with a sly chuckle. This stranger she's bumped into shakes away her long, smooth locks of brunette hair and eyes her with a smirk.
"Don't let your clumsiness get the better of you, friend," the girl chastised, "We wouldn't want to lose any more of what we got left."
"Yeah," River muttered demurely, "Sorry, again."
This brunette girl adjusted her grip on the carton—a carton of beer bottles—and gave River a once-over. River herself was struck by embarrassment and turned to head back to her parents, no-doubt wondering when she'd come back. They've probably laid the blankets and pillows in the cab and were getting some much-needed sleep.
"Hey," the brunette called to her, and River turned back, "What's your name?"
"It's River," the pony-tailed blonde called back, "Why do you ask?"
"Why don't you join me, River?" the brunette offered, "I've some friends over by a fire, and more company's better than being alone."
Schwartz was ready to decline but thought twice about it. What good would it do to shut out others who were in the same plight as she was? For all she knew, this girl was reeling just as much from the sudden fires of revolution as she was, and found her means of coping by being around others.
"...sure, why not."
This brunette girl led River over to another campfire further down the concrete path. A smaller cluster of people were huddled around this open flame—four, to be exact—each clinging to themselves for warmth. A couple boys were on the far side of the flames, opposite to them were a couple girls, these being the friends this brunette was referring to.
"Hey guys, check out what I got," the carton of beer was passed around, as each person reached eagerly for a bottle, "Hope you like IPA's, whatever that kind is."
"Thanks Sara, we appreciate it," one of the boys raised his bottle as a salute, the bottle opener in his buddy's hand being passed over to pop the cap open.
Sara. So that's her name.
River stood there awkwardly as Sara passed the beers around to make sure everyone had their own bottle. The pony-tailed blonde made no move to join them. It was difficult to tell how much time had passed between these people to determine them as close friends, and to intrude on that was not something Schwartz wanted to do. However courteous Sara had been to invite River to join them, it still edged on being intrusive in her mind.
"Guys, let me introduce someone I found," Sara smoothly announced, and held an arm over River's shoulder, "This is River. She's in the same boat as all of us, so don't be shy with her, alright?"
"Welcome to the Newly-Homeless Club, glad you could make it," a blonde, short-haired girl quipped up at her, "Name's Jennifer, but you can call me Jenny. That's Jasmin right there," the blonde pointed to the silent girl sitting next to her, "and you've already met Sara, so—"
"Nice to meet you, River," the boy greeted her, and she looked over to him as he smiled, "My name's Jacob, and this is my buddy, Zeke. Pleasure to have you here."
Zeke muttered a greeting, but River didn't notice, far too enraptured by Jacob's carefree expression. It might be because she'd only seen frowns for the past couple hours or had not the strength in herself to smile so brightly, but seeing that positive radiance around this boy sparked her interest. She sat down and ducked her head, embarrassed.
"T-thanks," she muttered.
"Have you ever tried one of these, Rivy?" Jenny asked her, and Schwartz shook her head at the beer bottle in the girl's hands, "No. I'm not old enough to have one of those."
"How old are you, if you don't mind me asking?" Sara wondered.
"I'm eighteen," she replied, and snickers arose at the soft declaration.
"What, what's wrong?" River snipped at them defensively, and Sara sympathetically replied, "We're all around that age as well. There's no shame in having some before the time's right."
"Yeah, Jasmin and I are eighteen," Jenny supported, "I think the guys are around that age, isn't that right?"
"It's true," Jacob spoke for himself and for Zeke, "We're eighteen as well. I shouldn't be having this, and under normal circumstances I wouldn't touch a beer. But..."
He trailed off. He didn't need to say it out loud. Being around this makeshift fire already told them well enough.
"If you don't want to drink, then it's alright," Jacob started up again, and held River's attention as he spoke, "I imagine you have your own ways of coping with your stress. This right here," he motioned for the IPA in his hand, "is mine, for the time being. I don't know how much these change of events are affecting you, but it's hard to not know if you'll ever see your mother and father again."
"What do you mean?" River asked him, concerned with his words. He obliged.
"My Dad went off once the guns started up, joined up with the militia to defend our town," Jacob explained, "Things got out of hand real fast. Mom had to send me and my twin sister off with some kind strangers so that we wouldn't get caught up in the fighting. I haven't seen either of my parents since."
Jacob then took a swig of the beer, the taste giving him a grimace, "So now it's just me and my sister. I'd like to think that this...this mess will end soon, and that we can go back home, but I don't know."
River said nothing, but sympathy was alight. A feeling of gratefulness swelled in her heart, because even though they were stressed and tired, her own Mom and Dad were still within reach, still there to give her reassurances that this was all a temporary disaster. Glances to the others brought the same conclusions: either they were grateful to be alive and with their family, or they were suffering in solitude. Jenny and Jasmin had faraway looks in their eyes as they sipped their drinks. Sara eyed the flames with a neutral expression, pondering her own circumstances.
River eyed the carton of beer bottles. There was a couple left. She took one and reached for the bottle opener, popping the cap off after a couple tries.
"Wait, be careful, it's bitter—!" Jacob warned her, but not quickly enough; River swigged the bottle back and keeled forward immediately afterwards, spitting the bitter liquid out in a coughing fit.
"Oh Jesus—!" she gagged at the taste, and laughter arose amongst the others at her baptism with alcohol, "What the hell is this shit?"
"Bitter and tangy is what it is," Zeke snarked out, "Helps keep your mind off the pain, but not if you chug it!"
"You alright?" Jacob asked, seeing the scowl on River's face.
"Yeah, I'm alright," she assured, wiping her mouth on the sleeve of her jacket, "That just tasted really awful."
"The plight of the poor soul, doomed to suffer tragedy, doomed to ease their pain through liquor," Sara remedied, placing a sympathetic hand on River's shoulder, "I should've warned you how bitter this beer tastes, forgive me, friend."
"Yeah, all's forgiven," River dissuaded, and found comfort not in Sara's placating words but in Jacob's eyes as he looked to her with genuine concern. But even this slight upset was not enough to deter him, and he smiled at River, a bright and happy smile. She could not help but reciprocate such positivity.
She carried this positivity close from the moment their group disbanded, to the moment she returned to her parents. Her father was still awake in the driver's seat, keeping an eye out for stray bums trying to steal. The whole of the congregation could be seen from where they were parked at, in this small place far from home. Yet even despite being in this faraway place, River slept as though she was back home without a care in the world.
The sky was turning blue when River woke up again. Rubbing the grit from her eyes, she rose from her spot in the back seat of the cab. The fires were being put out, and great plumes of smoke were billowing over the many shadows of people as they shuffled to their vehicles. Dad was packing up all that was taken out for the night and setting it in the back of the truck. At least this time she won't have to stay outside in the truck bed to hold the luggage down.
Another single truck, its bed loaded to the brim with armed militiamen, crawled its way through the crowd and turned onto the highway, its driver gunning the engine as they reached open road. The armed company was likely scouting ahead for the rest of them, to see how far they'd have to travel to reach another suitable spot to rest.
The sounds of fighting were slowly closing in on them. Distant though it was, the rumble and staccato could be heard as clearly as the birds chirping in the trees. This tremulous fight was destined to continue perhaps without end. The thought of it made River shudder.
The rest-stop came alive with the rumble of engines, drowning out all other noise. River saw headlights and taillights blink to life, and vehicles of all shapes and colors began filing out the cluttered pitstop. Dad shuffled back into the driver's seat, turning the truck's engine over and waking up Mom in the process. They were off to find another temporary home.
The caravan would find it after a half-hour's drive along the coastal highway. A nameless collection of houses with a couple of mom-and-pop stores situated in the center. The Schwartz family were among the first dozen to park along the streets leading into this quiet community. Militiamen were already posted on the street-corners, directing the inflow of traffic up and down to make room for the rest that were expected to arrive. The sun was still behind the mountain ranges to the east, but morning had finally come.
River was led by her father to greet the locals; a family of five were stood in front of their shop, together with a handful of militiamen. One of these militiamen, a sun-tanned old man with a greyish-white beard, spoke to them of their temporary stay.
"What's the meaning of all this?" River heard the father of this family ask, "We barely have enough accommodation for the lot of us here, how could we possibly help all of you?"
"We'll keep to our own, we're not expecting to intrude on you or your neighbors any more than necessary," the old militiaman placated, "I don't know if you've been aware of it, but there's been vicious fighting going on inland, over by the big cities. We got little in the way of intel about them people setting fire to everythin' in their path, we've been callin' them the Reds for that. Now, we've been on the run from the Reds laying siege to the whole of the countryside; some of us come as far away as Longview and Astoria. We're hoping to keep heading south and make it to California before the Reds consolidate their hold and spread out, so we'll be up and out of your hair sometime soon."
The old man called upon his fellow militia and set to work finding space available for the arriving refugees. Dad gave her a farewell kiss on the head and took up with the rest of the volunteers to help in the effort.
After informing her mother about her father's whereabouts, River decided to wander on her own around the three shops in the center of this quaint suburban-village. Already people gathered in great clusters, drawn like moths to the figurative flame. The shopkeepers opened their doors earlier than usual and were rewarded with spare change and stories about the outside world.
River soon spotted Sara and her two companions, lounging on their own by the steps of a cartographer's shop. Schwartz took notice of the three girls peering over what looked to be a map.
Sara was the first to notice her coming, "Ah, River—good to see you again."
"Likewise," River smiled, and leveled her gaze down to the sketching in Sara's hands, "What's that?"
"It's a map of the area surrounding this place," Jenny piped up, then pointed to a specific part, "there's supposedly some cool sight-seeing spots further inland, and it's not that far from here."
"I think an adventure is in order," Sara surmised, "Care to join us, River?"
"I...I don't know if that's a good idea," the pony-tailed blonde hesitated, "Shouldn't we inform someone about where we're going—?"
"Right, right!" Sara roped an arm around River's shoulders, closing into her personal space, "Jasmin, go on and tell the others that we're going on a little trip, I'm sure they'll know which way we'll be going."
The silent girl nodded once, and turned to find the others, whoever that may entail. River couldn't tell where or how many people would be informed, as Sara was already leading her by the shoulders off towards their adventure. Jenny tagged along with the map still clutched in her hands, proclaiming herself the guide.
Their desired location was a creek about a mile inland. They approached it from the west, and first noticed the body of water blocking them from going any farther inland. This body of water ran north to south, and on the east bank opposite to them, the pines slowly rose up with the slope of the mountains. The sun poked over this mountain range and reflected its rays off the clear green water.
People have obviously been to this spot before them. Tire tracks and shoeprints in the dirt told them this well enough. Yet the charm of being in a small little world of its own dawned upon the three girls as they decided to explore. River and Jenny followed after Sara's lead, treading northwards along the west bank of this creek. There, past the dense shrubbery, a steep cliff rose from the ground, and water poured down its slope in a rush. River and Sara eyed the path they took, seeing it slowly rise up about halfway to the top of this cliff, but curving before the slope so that one could cross onto the other side, provided they not care for the water rushing at their feet. Another less-beaten path led further up the slope, so that if one wanted to continue trekking up to the top of this cliff, they could do so.
"Whoa, that's pretty cool!" Jenny remarked, moving quickly to get a better look at the rushing current.
"Don't get too close, you don't want to risk getting your clothes wet," Sara reminded the short-haired blonde, choosing to admire this natural beauty from a distance. River did the same, being the least enthused about going on this trip despite its short distance from town. The girls found a limestone rock clear of dirt and twigs and perched themselves atop its surface to observe.
The appreciation towards this place was subtle, but it was well received. Birds could be heard humming in the trees. Winds swayed the canopies of the pines surrounding them. The sun's warmth protected them against the coldness of the morning air. The clear water flowed gently past, and if River squinted hard enough, she could see the small minnows darting in the water. It was a very atmospheric little slice of heaven.
"Look, do you see that?" Sara whispered beside her, and slowly pointed to the opposite side of the creek. River traced her arm to the east embankment and gasped at the sight. There by the creek's edge, a doe had stopped to have some water, its head lowered down to drink. It seemed quite unbothered by their presence, and went about its way after drinking its fill, moving back into the pine forest and out of sight.
"She's rather calm about us being here, don't you think?" River wondered aloud.
"The locals must have earned the respect of the wildlife, otherwise we would've scared her off," Sara agreed, "This place is almost too peaceful to be true."
It was peaceful. If the nagging thoughts in her head would leave her be, River could easily convince herself that there wasn't a war looming over their heads, that her home was just as intact and indestructible as she thought it was not even a couple days ago. It was a relaxing place.
"So, have you found your way to Jacob's heart?"
River nearly sprained her neck as she swung her head to Sara, wide-eyed and in shock, "Huh—what!?"
The brunette was smiling impishly and eyed the pony-tailed blonde with a glint of mischief, "It's not like you were subtle about your interest. I saw how you looked at him from across the campfire. He's handsome, isn't he?"
"Hey, whoa whoa whoa—!" River swiftly dissuaded, "Who the hell starts a conversation like that, I just started relaxing here!"
Sara chuckled at the outburst, "I'm only curious, that's all—if you don't want to say anything about it, then I understand."
"It's fine, I just—I don't know," Schwartz hesitated, her cheeks flushed red at the thought of him, "I mean, yeah, he's good looking and all that."
"...and?" Sara raised an eyebrow, noting the bashful look adorning River's face, "is there something about him that's bothering you?"
"No, I...I just don't know how to feel about him," River admitted, "It seems almost wrong to think these things about him, there's no guarantee that I'll ever see him again after this."
"With that kind of mentality, it's no wonder you're constantly alone," Sara quipped, earning her a miffed glance, "By that logic, everyone you've ever met, even your own parents, are no better than the strangers you meet every day. To have feelings is inevitable, but to act upon those feelings is what separates us from those who don't take action when they should."
River's annoyance morphed to confusion as Sara elaborated, "It's up to you to decide what you do next. Either you take action or sit back and watch him go off and live his life without you. The chance to make something from nothing is yours to decide."
River looked back to the gentle waters of the creek, ebbing and flowing.
"However, if I were you, I'd feel the same way you're feeling," Sara monologued, as if encouraging her to listen, "The best way to know, is to be straightforward. Find a time and a place to be alone with him and talk about how you feel. Whichever way he responds, it'll only be to your benefit; you either win his heart or save yours from eventual heartbreak."
"...you sound oddly knowledgeable about stuff like this," River noted, "have you experienced stuff like this before?"
"Not to me, personally," the brunette replied, "I've seen things from the people around me. My parents, my siblings. My friends, most definitely. I don't want you to end up like them, but I can't make you do anything; the only thing I can do is give you the right encouragement."
The encouragement to be cautious, River supposed. It wasn't unfounded, and Sara made the good point to not become too invested when nothing's been set in stone.
There was something calling to her, there in the deep abyss of her heart. Something true resonated whenever she looked into his eyes, something was right in the way he smiled at her. A longing beyond anything she'd ever felt pulled her in this vague direction, drawn towards it despite not having a light nor map to guide her. Yet in this figurative path, no matter how daunting it seemed, it felt right knowing what lay at this path's end.
"Hey, guys!"
The call drew the attention of both girls and so they looked down the path from whence they came and beheld the sight of Jacob and Zeke, tagging along with Jasmin. There he was! River's heart burst with delight, and a smile bloomed across her lips.
Jasmin and the boys made their way over to them, taking in the lush scenery. The three newcomers sat beside them, Jasmin taking her spot next to Sara and the two boys hovering next to River.
"This place is damningly beautiful, don'tya think?" Jacob marveled, his eyes alight with wonder over the colorful scenery.
"Yeah, it's real nice," River whispered, ironically captivated by his bright green eyes glistening in the sunlight. She shook herself from her daydreaming, cursing herself and her emotions.
"Hey, that waterfall looks really cool," Zeke pointed towards the rushing waters, "Let's check it out, man."
"I'm down," Jacob made ready to follow his friend, but turned back and extended an arm out to River, "Hey, come on! Let's go see it up close!"
River had half the mind to stay where she was and enjoy the scenery, but that feeling was tugging her heartstrings again, and before she could doubt herself, she took his hand, and was whisked away towards the waterfall, leaving Sara and Jasmin behind.
Sara kept that smile on her face until she was sure the pony-tailed blonde wasn't looking, then dropped that smile into a subtle scowl. The muscles in her jaw were clenched, and her brown eyes were burning with envy. Woe be unto the poor soul who had given fruition to this silent wrath, for unassuming are the machinations of the heart which yearns to be loved.
Jasmin glanced over and said nothing. She knew better than to incur this wrath. Jenny, who was rushing from where she was crouched by the creek's edge, was not so aware of the sudden shift in tension.
"Hey girls, check this out," the blonde smiled proudly, holding in her hand a small crayfish, "I caught me a big one!"
"As if you'd bother with actually eating one of those," Sara snipped at the blonde's pride, "It's probably not worth the trouble, go on and put it back."
"What's got you so grumpy?" Jenny retorted, very much hurt by the degradation of her hard-earned achievement. She gently dropped the crayfish back in the creek and turned back to her friends.
"The new girl has proven herself to being a thorn in our side," Sara started, giving her words an air of formality fitting to a doctor's diagnosis, "She's got the hots for my beloved, and has not picked up on the hints I gave her. She's going to blunder her way into his arms, and I will not stand for it."
"...well, have you asked him out already?" the blonde poked.
"No."
"Wait a minute, doesn't that mean...?"
"Doesn't mean what?" Sara repeated back, stressing her irritation with that final word.
"Doesn't that mean Jacob's not aware that you have feelings for him?" Jenny wondered aloud.
"That is the point, sweetie," the brunette swept her smooth locks of hair back, annoyed, "I was planning to take it slow and build an actual relationship with him, spend quality time with him, get to know him down to the last detail; but all of that goes out the window once little Rivy comes along and takes what is mine. I've already got a plan to fix this problem, thankfully."
"Y'know, a lot of this could be solved if you'd just—"
A hand wraps its digits around Jenny's arm and sinks its grip into flesh, pulling her closer. Before the blonde realizes it, she's looking into the eyes of her brunette companion.
The birds have stopped singing. The water rushing down the slope is droning an endless note, drowning out any other sound of tranquility. The sun feels dull upon their skin as the air grows cold.
"A lot of my problems could be solved if I had my friends to help me when I need them," Sara whispered, just loud enough for Jenny to hear. The brunette never took her gaze off the shivering blonde, "It wouldn't do to have you leave me in the dust like what you've done to other people before, wouldn't it, Jen'?"
Jennifer couldn't look away. Even when Sara's eyes lost their color and morphed to orbs of black, even when goosebumps bloomed on her skin at the coldness in Sara's touch. Shivering and caught like a deer in headlights, she could do nothing but look, and listen.
"All I ask in return for our friendship, is that you help me when I need you. It's not much; frankly it's the least you could do. So, won't you help me, Jen'? Won't you stay by my side, through thick and thin?"
Sara's serpentine voice whispered its command, and a lifeless answer was given, "Yes, Sara. I will."
Jenny blinked.
"Huh...?" she muttered, dazed from something she could pinpoint.
The birds were singing their chorus, and laughter from the waterfall could be distantly heard. Sara was smiling sweetly at her, and tugged Jenny's arm as if she were beckoning the blonde closer to whisper a secret. Jenny obliged, shaking the dazed feeling in her head away and leaned in close.
"I want you to keep an eye on River and Jacob for me. Sparks are flying between them, I've seen it. They're bound to want to find some time alone—when that happens, let me know."
"Ohhh, you're playing matchmaker~!" Jenny realized, and was silenced immediately by Sara's hand clamping down on her mouth.
"Shh! Christ, not so loud!" the brunette chided her, letting the blonde go, "just keep an eye on them, tell me when they sneak off so we can see for ourselves if it's true."
"I got it," Jenny beamed, eager to witness the blossoming of love, "Well, I'm gonna look for some crayfish, there's gotta be some around here."
The blonde winked obnoxiously, then wandered off to hunt down more elusive crayfish. Sara glanced to Jasmin, who sat silent as ever. The other girl had kept her eyes away from them the whole time. Not once did she look Sara's way.
The brunette smirked. It seemed that Jasmin knew better than to doubt their friendship.
"Jazz, come with me," Sara commanded, rising from her spot on the rock, "I want to go see what's up there, atop the cliff."