Chapter 12: A Journey's Beginning
Hours later, when we were all starving, the bots had finally come back, with tattered bags full of many different items inside. We gorged ourselves on the food that the bots had brought which, despite their looking like they came out of the garbage cans, were still a great alternative to continued starvation. Medical supplies had also been brought, on the order of Stan who, being the only adult at the factory, was a viable candidate for taking on this job of logistics, as the other options were two 13-year olds, one of them psychopathic, and a genius man-baby with a bipolar disorder.
As I wolfed down the subpar food from the blanket of goods, my eyes drifted over to Stan examining the various supplies on the other blankets, his eyes furrowed in deep thought as he picked through the various items that were laid out on the blanket.
"Dippi-..er, Dipper!"
Goddamnit.
I felt a wave of goosebumps raise across my skin as I heard my name chirped in such a egregiously positive manner by none other than the loony nut herself. Only a couple hours before had she regained consciousness, and of course her first instinct being to call out for my name as her eyes darted around in panic.
"Dipper…"
At this point, just her very presence pissed me off and, in equal length, put my nerves on edge. I seethed through my teeth as my head craned over towards her, laying across the bench, a bandage wrapped around various parts of her limbs, and doubly so around the top of her head. And yet, injured as she was, that unstable look in her eyes never seemed to falter, her crazed grin directed straight at me, as if to give semblance to some sickening form of comfort. It served as just the opposite to me.
"I'm so sorry to ask this of you, Dip-Dipper, but...can I get just a tiny bit of food from that pile? I mean, you don't have to take from that pile, you can use-"
Her words turned into buzzing in my head as I zoned out, a revelation overcoming me almost instantaneously. Mabel had never, not once, thought of caring for herself in any way whatsoever, as was evidenced by her ratty hair, the grime and dirt that coated her skin, and her gaunt figure, the result of starvation and possible malnutrition. I had chalked it up to the pure, psychopathic fixation she had on me that led her mind to stray from self-preservation.
Now, she was seemingly aware of her own suffering, asking for food, even if she did so in such a demeaning manner.
Maybe, I thought precariously. Maybe she's...recovering…
"D..Dipper?"
"Shut up, I'm getting it, freak."
Mabel's face began quivering as tears welled in her eyes. Lately, i've found myself being much more cruel to Mabel. Insulting her was giving me some sort of twisted satisfaction in myself. I knew this world was beginning to screw with my mind, but I considered this satisfaction to be a sufficient outlet for now, especially considering Mabel's disgustingly horrible past actions. This was justified, and righteously only a sliver of what she deserved.
"I...I'm sorry, Dipp-"
"Shut the fuck up!"
That outburst was a little louder than I expected, and I noticed Stan turn his head my way. He seemed to stare for a couple seconds, then went back to his scrounging.
Mabel began crying quietly, her tears sliding off her cheeks onto the blanket that was draped over her body, which only pissed me off more. How dare this psychotic bitch have the gall to cry, when she had done so many terrible things?
Despite this, I still went over to the food pile, trying to find the most dreadful pieces of food I could scour, coming up with a half-rotting apple and a piece of burnt brisket. I turned around and trudged back to Mabel, carelessly tossing the food at her.
"Th-thank you, Dipper…"
I ignored her, moving over to the pile of choice weaponry that Soos had also ordered the bots to collect, and mostly consisted of improvised bladed and blunt weapons, such as rusty lead pipes and cracked wooden stakes. However, there were also just random pieces of material, from broken shards of glass to random sticks.
Of course, I thought. I was starting to suspect how well these bots performed, no matter how genius the inventor was. There had to be a limit to the bots' capabilities.
Wait…
After copious amounts of thinking, I realized that these materials could be put together for-
"Better weapons!"
"HOLY SHIT!"
I bounced up in fright as I heard a high-pitched, scratchy voice rasp in my ear. I stumbled back, one of my hands scratching against something sharp.
"Ow, fuck!"
I looked down to see a long cut bleeding profusely from the side of my hand, my vision focusing on one of the shards of glass that was spattered with my blood.
Fucking psycho, I thought in anger, looking up at Soos. Of course, I was smart enough not to say that to his voice, especially when he had complete command of the several killing machines within this facility. I opted to move over to the medical pile, picking up some bandages and wrapping it around my hand. I felt something was missing in this process, but I dismissed the thought, as I was too focused on Soos' crazed rambling as he hobbled along with me.
"That's what you were thinking, huh? Over there, huh? Weapons...weapons of mass destructio- NO! Fucking idiot- it's okay! Infection- so, Dipper, right? Dipper, Big Dipper, Little Dipper, we have something here, Dipper! Weapons and medicine and food and MORE WEAPONS! Safety, that is number one! We are numbers- all of us. Winding down, whittling, until our population dwindles...We will kill, to survive, the man sits in that tower of Doom. So, you figured it out, huh?"
I had almost missed the question he had posed at the end of his rant.
"Ah-er, yeah, the, uh, weapons…"
"Good, good! Well then, assemble your cardinal components."
And as abruptly as that, he left, hobbling towards Stan to ramble about whatever insane drivel came out of his mouth. I took the liberty of going back over to the weapons pile and looking over the various materials before me.
A club…
A spear…
A knife…
As my mind wandered, I began to come up with more creative, if not sadistic ideas.
A nail bat…
An improvised knuckle duster…
A makeshift hammer…
It was just then that I had a sudden revelation of my own thoughts. I rubbed my forehead shamefully.
"What am I doing?" I muttered to myself. "Thinking of weapons to make from scraps...this is just pathetic."
Regardless, it was the world we lived in now, one of cruel, unforgiving monsters, both human and inhuman. A means of defense was at the same level as water and food nowadays.
Very well, I thought begrudgingly. Whatever is needed to survive…
An hour or so later, I had laid out a fine assortment of handcrafted, improvised weaponry before. From blunt to blade, it was almost artful, in a crude and gruesome kind of fashion. I took up a makeshift spear, which consisted of a long metal rod with a sharpened piece of metal welded to the end, courtesy of Soos. I made sure to also duct tape a strap to it, so that I could sling it around my shoulder when traveling. I also took up a self-fashioned belt of sorts, which was just pieces of leather welded together and made adjustable, also the courtesy of Soos.
I never knew how handy a mad genius could be in times like these… I thought humorously to myself. Finally, I took up a rustic hunting knife, which had been found after some time scrounging in the pile of weapons and material. It was only now, after looking over my crude assortment of weaponry, that I realized just how dangerous it was to sift through that pile of jagged and rusty material. Surely, a bad cut could lead to infection very easily, and that was a dreadful way to pass.
Thus, with my kit assembled, I felt my confidence boost in myself, in spite of this world's cutthroat and desolate circumstances, especially the effect it had on me.
"Can you stand now, Mabel?"
At the mention of her name, I couldn't help but feel a knot of seething anger burst forth in my chest. I glanced over to where Stan was trying to help Mabel up onto her feet, to which she looked (much to my satisfaction) to be in a dreary state.
If only she'd just fucking waste away, things would be so much...easier.
"Dipper, Soos, come over here."
Hearing Stan speak up, I perked up, nodding as his eyes met mine and walked over to where he stood.
"Dipper…"
As I came closer, I heard Mabel mutter my name, that same adoring tone still coating her words like syrup. I glanced at her, if only for a second, to see that same adoration mirrored in her eyes, as if I was her idol, no, a god in her image. My wrath turned to pity as I realized that, no matter how much I abused and tortured this girl, she would still hold me in that same light. It was a terrible revelation, yet it still didn't excuse her past.
"Time? Time is what we need, yes, need. We will-"
"Listen up, you two."
Stan cut off Soos mid-ramble, and it was so quick and subtle as Stan carried on talking that I almost didn't catch the jaw-dropping event. I was doubly surprised at how Stan asserted authority quickly over this rambling, insane cretin.
"We're going to need to figure out what to do next. We got a couple options. First and foremost, we could bunker up here for a while-"
"Yes! That sounds amazing!"
Stan made an irritated expression as I interrupted him, but I was much too into my argument before he could cut me off.
"We got a large facility, with several rooms, an army of bots, a genius at our disposal (despite being bat-shit crazy)-"
"I don't appreciate the usage of that term, Dipnut-"
"-And a whole damn fence around the perimeter! This place could not be more perfect for this shitty situation!"
"Dipper, I get that, but-"
"But what? This is the optimal situation for-"
"Dipper, shut the fuck up!"
I leered back at the authoritative tone that Stan took up, cutting me off from my eager rant. As he stared me down, I felt an instinctive urge to keep my eyes down, and did so submissively.
"What the fuck did you just-"
"M-Mabel, it's fine."
As I heard Mabel's face turn red in rage at the statement, I felt it necessary to calm herself before she did anything irrational once again. Her gaze whipped towards me and, within a second, all of the rage fell from her expression, replaced with glazed eyes that followed my every movement fanatically.
"Yes, Dipper."
I sighed, looking back at Stan.
"...Sorry." I muttered. I was inwardly pissed that he had done that and wanted badly to tell him off, but for some reason I felt as if all my courage had been drained out of my body. Stan's eyes softened as he noticed the interaction, and he cleared his throat.
"It's fine..." Stan muttered. "Now, as I was saying, that sounds like a good idea. However, unless any of you know of every single type of monster out there, you should be aware that I myself have seen some monsters that could step on this fortress without even noticing it, as well as flying monsters, monsters that can scale walls like they're nothing…"
Stan took a breath.
"You get the point. Then there's the problem with scavenging. As vast as this region is, we live in a world now where food and supplies are already scarce. People seemed to have either banded together or gone lone wolf, and with them they're already taking their fair share of said supplies, along with the monsters. Staying in one place, we'll inevitably drain the surrounding resources."
As Stan went on with his explanation, I couldn't help but start to agree with his logic.
Maybe I shouldn't have jumped the gun so quickly like that… I thought to myself.
"...Now, there is a second option. Soos here-"
"Present, teacher!"
"...Yeah. Anyways, he has suggested, or rather prophesied that there is some sort of fortune and glory and yada-yada to be found by heading east. Now, do understand that-"
"We're gonna trust the words of a fuckin' madma-"
Before I could finish my sentence, Stan whipped over towards me and grabbed me by the shoulder, bringing me down into a sort of football huddle as he spoke to me.
"Dipper, he's right fucking there."
"R-right…"
"Look…" He sighed. "I know it seems crazy to trust this guy, but what-the-hell else are we gonna do? I already explained the many cons of staying here, unless you want me to reiterate-"
"No i'm good."
"-Then understand that the redemption or whatever he was talking about that is east is probably good fortune. Think about it. This guy may be eating his shoes and spouting crazy shit, but he invented these bots-" He said this as he waved his hand towards a couple of said bots driving and hovering around the facility. "-And, frankly, I think he's onto something."
I made a face at that statement.
"What the hell do you mean, he's onto something? He may be on something, but I certainly don't think that lunatic is-"
"Look. Where else are we gonna go? What choice do we have? You wanna go north? South? West? Who gives a shit? No matter what direction we head in, we're just surviving and scraping by, until eventually we reach a point where we just get ripped apart by some monster, or killed by some fanatical gang, or step into a fucking bear trap in the woods and bleed out. We can keep going like that, or, maybe, just maybe...we could find the problem to why this world is such a fucking hellhole and solve it."
I had a snarky rejoinder at the ready, in response to his supposed 'solve the problem' scenario, but I felt that pissing him off would only serve to make me suffer in the long run. On the other hand, he had a point. There really wasn't a difference which direction we headed, as we would just be surviving in the end.
I sighed in resignation, my shoulders slumping.
"...Fuck it. Whatever we need to do."
Stan nodded, then receded back to his spot, standing in front of us three. He craned his eyes, looking over each and every single one of us.
"So, what's the decision."
Mabel immediately responded.
"I'll go with whatever Dipper says."
"Naturally."
Soos seemed to have taken interest in his own toes, but had somehow been listening to the conversation as well.
"East. East is the beast, the least, the yeast, the deceased-"
"Dipper? It's up to you, essentially."
I was a bit annoyed by his acting like I was making a grand decision here. He had basically muscled me into the only choice, but it wasn't like I cared either way.
"East. Sure."
Soos made some sort of disgusting chortle which I took to be a satisfied grunt.
"Wonderful, simply marvelous! Like sparrows in the winter heading north, we head east unto our prophecy, our destiny, our-"
"Yeah, yeah, yeah, cool. Alright, it looks like we've traced our destination out-"
"I'm already tracer."
Stan seemed more than irked by Soos' constant rambling and interruptions, but nonetheless cleared his throat and struck a heroic sort of pose, staring into the distance, much to my cringe.
"It seems we're heading east, then."
Upcoming - Chapter 13: A Band of Survivors