Clip 6 – Casual Suspicion

"Some People," is it, Seven? You wouldn't've been one of them, would you? I suppose it's fortunate that I don't have the breath to sneer at him, because he probably could take me down without even having to bother with a weapon. In fact, with his broad shoulders and well-defined torso, I might have found Seven kind of sexy if I'd only looked at him and didn't have to listen to his Golden Boy sermons.

Right, it was just the rocket launcher attack that had anyone concerned. That was all. Had nothing to do with the rampant paranoia and xenophobia that have spread like weeds through the country, choking out any remnants of post-apocalyptic civilization.

In fairness, it sounds like they've had some difficult experiences that have made them somewhat wary. With zombies swarming everywhere, a bit of paranoia is actually kind of healthy.

Then he has to go and tell me more about Scoobs. And all of a sudden I'm unbelievably grateful that the copter was shot down before it got to Abel with supplies missing. For some reason I even feel a twinge of guilt, even though I know I had absolutely nothing to do with Scoobs' destruction or the missing supplies or any of it. I remind myself that none of that was my fault in the least, and I find that I'm feeling even angrier at whoever might've been behind it.

Seven sounds honestly puzzled, and I just can't get a read on him. Is he really that innocent, that he isn't suspicious of me and what my agenda is? Or is he just good enough that I haven't a chance of figuring out what he truly believes?

I guess that's one of the things you don't mention. Everybody talks about missing things like fresh food and sheets just out of the dryer and long, meandering strolls for no purpose other than to enjoy the day. But it's just not cool to say that you miss not having to wonder if folks are planning to kill you. Or that you miss being unimportant. Being able to goof around without risking death for it.

Conclusion: Seven freaks me out. We're heading back to Abel, which sounds good, but there's still plenty of time for him to arrange an "accident" without much difficulty at all. And he could just tell everyone back there "it was awful! Five set me up!" or something like that, or that I'm incompetent and got bit on a simple test run… just about any story would work, to be honest. But apparently he thinks I'll be useful, so it seems I've passed his stupid little tests.

I guess at this point I probably wouldn't trust anyone they sent out with me; I'd really rather run by myself. However, with some of the runners, it wouldn't be quite so terrifying. Four, for example. She's just a wee thing. Bit clumsy, too. I'm pretty sure I could take her.

And that's just it. I really, really wish it didn't seem so natural to think like this. I don't want to think about taking Four out. And it's entirely possible that the reason they sent Seven with me was because they didn't know if I'd be any good and they didn't want me getting hurt. I want to believe that. It's ever so much nicer – more comforting.

Comfort, however, is rare.

As we approach the compound, the rifles clatter at the zoms behind us. The klaxons blare, and the gates rattle up, and a moment later we're through and behind the fence again.

I've made it. I'm back. I'm safe – for now, anyway. It occurs to me that I'm home wasn't one of my thoughts of relief. I don't think I've really felt at home anywhere, not since before the outbreak.

I wonder if it's even possible to feel that anymore.

[End clip! And just in time to sneak in a still-fairly-early leg-stretching walk. Up to Mission 18 now; writing takes a lot more time than walking does! I'll probably listen to 3, though, getting ready for the next series.]