As Darlene waited to see if Duncan would appear, she noticed how the place seemed more deserted than it had been a few days ago. He hadn't really...? No. Those lights she had spotted in the distance, that must be where he was. She considered going to look for him there, but decided to wait a while longer in the car.
Sure enough, he returned. She felt herself getting jittery as the sound of an approaching vehicle reached her ears, not sure how she would be received. The answer: not very nicely. Her hopes plummeted as Duncan didn't even look at her or read her letter. His first words told her that she could sleep on the couch. That was... so very nice of him? She hadn't come to take up space, but she didn't voice that thought. If he read her letter, he would know.
It was fine. She could deal with mad. He couldn't keep it up forever. Still, internally she compared the previously cheerful and welcoming Duncan... to this now. So different.
Nice to see you too. That remark wormed its way into her mind, but she pushed it away, refusing to voice those words.
Instead, she followed Duncan inside. She wasn't sure which was more shocking, him removing his shirt so nonchalantly in front of her, or the scars that adorned his back. He didn't really care, did he? Didn't care about concealing... and didn't care that she was a girl. Not that it was anything outrageous, removing a shirt, it was just that... well, the only person she ever really saw without a shirt was her father, but he was older. Oh, and one or two times at the swimming pool. But she didn't really swim much.
Anyway. She averted her gaze for both reasons, trying not to dwell on the scars too much.
The shirt went into the garbage can? Though Duncan did look quite dirty, she didn't get why he wouldn't wash it. Perhaps it was easier for a man to throw stuff away and get another new one, especially since now you didn't have to pay for anything with money.
She waited patiently while he showered, running over the possible things she could say if he still didn't read her letter. When he finally appeared, she took a second to look over his attire-- identical to what he had worn earlier. It didn't take long for her gaze to narrow upon the sticker left on his shirt.
"I'm sorry." She spoke as she got up from where she had seated herself. Sorry. For leaving like that. For not being able to deal with his past calmly. For not accepting him as he was. For so many things. Darlene moved towards him, reaching out to remove the sticker from his side. "Please... just read what I wrote. Just that one thing, and then I will leave you alone if you wish things to be that way."
Various locations: Albuquerque, NM August 27, 2016
Perhaps under different circumstances, she would have felt bad for Duncan. She might have noticed the pained way he looked. Would have felt bad for revealing to him that she hadn't needed his key. But she merely listened to his advice without any emotion showing on the outside, and once he was finished she turned to leave. "Thanks." The words were only a formality. Spoken without feeling.
Darlene didn't have much to prepare for her departure, so it didn't take her long once returning to Duncan's base to gather her stuff... along with a bike, some vegetables, ammunition, and a Go Bag. She considered not taking anything, but practicality won. He didn't need all this, and he had told her to take it. She wandered around the nearby area until she found a good car that Duncan hadn't taken for himself yet, hotwiring it and loading her stuff in.
On a map she found in the car, she marked down the approximate location of Duncan's base before driving to her broken down car and getting her items from there too.
Then she was ready.
Darlene drove for hours, not sure where she was going even though she was somewhat following Duncan's directions without realizing it. All she knew was that she was going away. To be alone. Again. For how long? Perhaps forever. Her thoughts flew back to the prayer that Duncan had recited to her. Was there really a heaven that she would make it to when she died? Or was it hell for her? Was there really such a thing?
She didn't want to think. She was tired of thinking. Dwelling on everything: the happy past that lived no longer, the tragic past, the tragic present, doubts of how capable she really was, doubts of what was real, what could be done. Spending time alone meant being alone with her thoughts all day, for weeks and then for months. But even when she had at last found someone... she hadn't been able to stand it.
Where was that social part of her? The one who spent hours talking with friends either in person or online?
Where?
Where was the happy her? Still riding in her car, Darlene let out a mirthless laugh. Gone.
Or not.
Apparently some part of her still hoped for happy, huh? With all that stupid hoping that Duncan would have been some... untainted person, even if him being untouched by all the unhappiness during the Plague would have meant that he would not have been able to understand what she had gone through. Stupid.
Darlene's thoughts ran on for hours as she drove, until the sun set and she pulled over to the side. Transferring her belongings from the trunk to the front passenger seats and passenger seats, she curled up in the trunk for the night.
> > T i m e S k i p > >
August 30, 2016: Sundown
Sleep. Eat. Drive a little if she felt like it. Think. Cry. Sob. Lament. Sleep. Eat. Drive.
Again. Again. And Again.
The same things done over and over for three days, but she didn't care. Didn't know where exactly she was going, as long as her supplies lasted.
But when Darlene woke up from a nap to see the sun setting, she paused. Actually paused properly, with her senses about her instead of zoned out of reality. She looked at the sun, about to disappear. Forced herself to look at it and not block out the memories as they came flooding in.
"Isn't it so pretty? Some claim that there's no difference between sunrise and sunset, that it's all the same. But you know what? They're different. Sunrises? Those who like sunrises better lack strength, and for that I will always pity them. Sure, they have a point. A new day, right? But it takes strength to look at the sun setting, the star that keeps us alive, and keep smiling as it fades away. Because they have faith that it will come again, and so they embrace that part of the cycle. They don't cry for the sun to come back... they... they watch peacefully as it slips away. They love to watch it slip away. You know what I mean?"
She hadn't understood. She had always been a sunrise kind of person.
She had nodded anyway.
"You're going to have to be strong now, Darlene. It's not going to be easy. We may not all make it through. But you have to find your fire somewhere, I know you have it in you. And even when the sun has set, you need to keep burning. Got it?"
She had nodded. Believed she could do it.
"I'm scared of the dark, 'lene. Can I sleep with you? Please?"
A hand flew up to where the leather pouch had always lay. When Darlene felt nothing lying there, she panicked. Where was it? She spent a minute that felt like eternity looking for the small item that meant so much to her, at last finding it buried under one of her bags. Where she had cast it, not wanting to remember.
She made herself slow down so as to carefully take the folded papers out, so as not to tear it by accident. The creases were soft and worn from being unfolded and folded many times, and it was with the utmost care that she smoothed the paper flat. The moment she saw the young face staring out at her from the pages, she burst into tears.
There was her sister. Her father. Mother. Friends. The faces and characteristics of all those close to her who were gone, preserved carefully on sheets of white. That was all that was left on them. The drawings weren't perfect, some parts a little lopsided, some parts drawn in a shaky hand. But they were still pretty good likenesses of the people she had been trying to draw, and she had captured their expressions well-- happy, sad, angry, thoughtful...
She was living, scraping an existence out of life by depending on these sheets to carry her through the night.
When there was a very alive person some miles back. Whom she had left without a second thought.
"You will be welcome back if you choose to do so. But I won’t be here much longer."
Not much longer.
"I don’t know what your problems are."
"... leave your problems in the desert."
She couldn't leave her problems in the desert. Her so called "problems" consisted of people who were now gone, and she would not leave them. She carried them with her always. But perhaps she could leave her current mentality in the desert. Try to become strong? Like everyone had told her to be?
Reaching over to draw a blank sheet of paper from one of her bags, she got out a purple pen. There were things she needed to tell him, things that she was afraid she might mess up if she tried to speak them to him. So she would write.
She spent the all the time until all the light faded writing in her small neat script. By the time she was finished the page was dotted with some tear stains, and many words were crossed out and rewritten. In the end though, she ended up with this:
DearHello Duncan,
I know it must seem pathetic, me my coming back after only a few days when I said I was leaving. I'll leave again if you don't want me to stay.
I did a lot of thinking during the days I was gone. I thought so much about the past. What can't be changed. What is long gone. I dwell too much on the past, I will admit that. But when it was the only thing I had to keep me going... the memories of people I used to have by my side... I couldn't forget. Otherwise, I don't think I would have been able to make it this far. Without my memories... I wouldn't be alive. I might not have made it down to New Mexico.
The point is, I thought so much about the past that I didn't even appreciate what was in the present. The fact that there is you, another living being. The fact that you were so welcoming. All I thought about was how you weren't an idealistic ideal personbeing companion for me. Because me, in my, yes, my... I don't know how to describe it, me, in my strange ways, wanted someone who would be "normal". Because I'm tired of thinking about tragedies. I didn't want you bringing more sadness in. Didn't want to have to look at you and, each time, think about what you have done and endured.
It's funny though, because though I tell myself I'm tired of thinking about the sad things that have happened, I can't let go.
I'm not going to leave my problems in the desert. Because my problems, they consist of the fact that the people I loved are no longer here. But as I said, memories of them kept me going.
So I'm not leaving them behind.
But I want to add you to my stash of memories. I want to draw you. I want to add the present to the past. I want to be able to move on (without forgetting), and if you'll let me, I want to remain in the same area as you. I don't know how much help I can be, but I can try. I'm not entirely useless. I'm not going to be able to be so cheerful as you are. I may sometimes fail in my goal, and I'll think too much about the past. I might need alone time. But I'll try.
Does that sound unconvincing? The flimsy word: try? I'm sorry. That's all I can offer.
Hopefully,
Sincerely, Darlene Kate Revie
> > T i m e S k i p > >
August 31, 2016: Mid-afternoon
She arrived back at Duncan's base the next day, having found it without too much trouble. Pulling up nearby, she felt so nervous. Her heart was thumping vigorously inside her ribcage, and she couldn't say truthfully that her hands weren't shaking a bit.
But she stepped out. Taking a few deep breaths, she attempted to steady her nerves. (She failed.) Then she took one more, deeper breath, calling out loudly, "Duncan?" In her hand she held the folded letter, which she would hold out to Duncan should he show himself.
Sigh. Okay. Uh, you've probably noticed I've been later with my posts recently: first responding after 2 days, then 3, and once longer. I've been getting kinda busy and overwhelmed lately with the school year approaching along with other things. I need to take a short break to sort stuff out before I can respond, probably until the end of this week-ish with the addition of a day, perhaps. I know you tend to prefer faster responses and all, so I'm really sorry, but after that I'll work on my post again.
Though I'll ask you a quick question already so I can think of what I want Darlene to do in my spare time. So, say that Darlene comes back after three or four days. Would Duncan have left by then? And then, the same question for if she comes back after a week.
This post is a shorter, as there's not as much to be done.
I'm guessing that Darlene won't actually leave until a few posts later since she still needs to get back to the base and gather her stuff and all, but after that we can probably time skip the time they spend away from each other. Darlene will either come back after a few days more composed and at terms with what she has learned, or perhaps she'll go the other direction and break down more. Then maybe Duncan could find her, since she won't be going far.
Not entirely sure what I'm going to have her do yet, but I'll decide by the time she leaves him.
For a few seconds Darlene didn't move, watching with wide eyes as Duncan led the way outside. But then she followed, staying as far as she could from Duncan without actually walking away. Being outside the house instead of in that site of death helped a little, but she was still far from calm.
She really tried to focus on what Duncan was saying, but it was hard when the person who spoke was the one who was the source of all her agitation. Happy times... crushes... crops... sales... all so irrelevant at this time. There wasn't such happiness anymore. Would there ever be? Answer: no. Everyone who had survived, basically two people, had sad pasts. She should have seen it coming, really, for since when was it survival of the weakest? Of course, she wasn't exactly strong, but she still had some skill.
But Duncan was strong. Too strong. Killed.
The cycle started all over again, Darlene thinking too much about the death and past. She subconsciously tuned out the last part of whatever it was that Duncan was saying while she lost herself in her thoughts, until she heard him ask if she was going to be okay. Forcing herself to look at him properly and processing his words slowly, she didn't know what to say.
Break it down.
Duncan said he wouldn't ever lie to her. Honestly is always the best policy? She wasn't so sure. He didn't start fights, but he never lost any. That was a mark against him, at least while Darlene was in this state. She was... scared. Of him just as much as she was scared of how she might not survive by herself.
Death, death, death. Death of family, friends, death of innocence. Death of happiness. There was the death that the person with her had caused. There was her possible death, which could happen so easily if she allowed it.
Why did I decide to live again?
There was a reminder... she had a reminder as to why she had decided to live. Feeling as if she was swimming outwards out of sludge, she clutched tightly at the pouch around her neck with both hands so that it was now obvious that something was there. She wanted to sink to the ground and be left alone, but after a few seconds she let go and the wall came down again.
Polite. Composed. Standing tall. The change happened so quickly it was absurd. Inside though, she was still unsure. Should she leave? She wanted to, wanted to leave this person who could remind too much of bad things that had happened. But he had so many supplies, had so much knowledge... teaming up for him would most likely mean survival for both of them.
Still...
Just for a little while?
She looked him in the eye, so unnaturally composed on the outside. "I understand. Thank you for telling me the truth. I thank you for your hospitality, but I would like to leave." She raised her chin slightly. "I can take care of myself. I can pick locks, and I hotwired the car by myself. I have been by myself and made it this far, even while-" A slight hitch in her voice could be detected. "Even while taking care of another."
Darlene felt that she should specify that she might return some time soon-ish, but ended up saying nothing. Some part of her understood that he probably wouldn't turn her away if she came back, and if she didn't, well, at least she wouldn't have made any promises.
She continued looking at him, waiting for his response.
When she spotted Duncan coming towards her she gave him her own small smile as a greeting. She observed him as he went over to the sink, eyes widening as she saw the scar that lay beneath the glove he wore. What... had happened? She couldn't help but glance at his hand a few times even as she began to eat-- rice and the deer stew. She decided to keep off the sushi, letting him have it all to himself. She thought of protesting that she didn't need to shop for more clothes, but in the end just went along with it.
It was a little funny, how much care he took to make sure the area was safe before leaving her to shop. And the key? Quite ingenious, but she could pick locks. Not that she said anything, though. The Glock and grenades were quite over the top though, and it began to make her feel like she was being babied. She survived the Plague, after all. She could take care of herself. Nevertheless, she took it and smiled. Thanked him. Then went to shop.
She got three new full sets of clothes, which actually didn't take her too long. It was quite unlike her, but one of those sets were actually fancy: a skirt and blouse. She was also able to find some of those feminine necessities before she walked back out with two plastic bags of stuff.
For a moment she thought that the flower arrangement was for her, and was prepared to accept them before she saw that he made no move to give them to her. She wasn't sure why he would give them to her anyway, to be honest. But still, she was confused. Were they for decorating his place back at the base?
The house. The crime tape. The fact that Duncan had a key to enter that wasn't like the one he had borrowed her. She was even more confused, but warily followed him inside.
The collection of toys. The outlines of people and blood stains that told her that this house had a sad story even before Duncan explained. The way the teddy bears stood guard, an idea that she would have thought only children could come up with. The entire atmosphere of the house...
His story. Gangs. Abandonment. Abuse. Killing people. Though of course Duncan would not have known, it had been a bad idea to introduce Darlene to more death.
Darlene's head began to spin as she began to comprehend his past. It was horrible, and she felt so sorry... except that "sorry" was too weak a word. Tragic. And he still smiled so much. Talked so much. But it was weird, how the brain worked. As Duncan finished his story and suggested seeing the garden, all she could think of was the death that had occurred here. Or rather, more specifically, that he had killed. Duncan. The person standing in the same room as she was. It didn't even matter that it had been in self defense. It was still a fact.
Well, looks could be deceiving.
Darlene's heart was thumping in her chest, and she was pretty sure she wasn't seeing properly. Her vision could only zoom in on one thing at a time, the bears, the outline, the blood spots, and Duncan. Her gaze flickered from place to place, searching for words, searching for some way to calm herself down. On the outside, it was very obvious that she was panicking and distraught.
She hadn't realized it until now, but perhaps she had been hoping that Duncan would turn out to be comparatively "normal".
Had been hoping that since he had stayed in a cabin during almost all the Plauge, his story wouldn't be so fucked up as she thought hers was. She had watched her family die, found new friends, and then watched them die along with her last living family member. But he had been abused, he had killed. He wasn't normal.
He could kill you. Abuse you. A voice whispered through her head, so unlike her. And that did it. She took steps backward away from him until she hit the counter top behind her, and then clumsily she grasped at the ledge with her left hand for support. If there was anything on the counter top, there was no doubt that she had knocked something off. The other hand? Gripping the pistol tightly, though she left it in the holster. For now.
Albuquerque, NM: Duncan's motor pool base August 27, 2016
It was all Darlene could do to keep smiling and nodding when needed, not engaging in conversation. She did make an effort to take in the information he was giving out, perhaps she could go through it later when she was feeling better. Later.
His invitation for her to shower was met with obvious relief, and she nodded quickly. "That would be most welcome," she said, standing up straight again. "I have clothes, don't worry." She wasn't sure what to make of his offer to get a whole RV for her, so she didn't say anything about that, deciding to leave it up to him whether he really wanted to go through that trouble for her.
He meant that she could shower now, right? Sure seemed like it. Going back to collect her backpack, she left him as she headed into the bathroom. Closing the door behind her and making sure it was tightly shut and locked, she leaned against it wearily for a few seconds. Alone. Her smile dropped and Darlene had to blink back tears as she removed her clothes. Don't think about the past.
Everything was piled into a neat pile in a corner, the pouch around her neck on top as she had removed it last. Then for the hot water. She ended up taking a much longer shower than she had meant to. The warm water was really too inviting. It gave her a chance to pull herself together again while she was still alone, and she let a few tears escape as the water ran down her face. Her shower ended abruptly when the hot water did actually run out, slightly to her embarrassment. She hadn't meant to really use up all the hot water, but it was too late now.
Drying herself with a towel she found that looked unused, she pulled on a fresh set of clothes. Long, plain blue jeans without any patterns or designs and grey socks was what she wore on her lower half. For her top, she chose the only slightly fancier shirt she had. Most of her clothes were entirely practical, but this, a fitting long-sleeved deep blue button down shirt that was made of a light and airy material, had some green embroidery along the bottom.
It might have seemed surprising to some to see her wearing long clothes even in summer, but it wasn't unusual. Plus, wearing long sleeves concealed the scratches and bruises on her arms, and some part of her did want to look sort of pretty. The only downside was that the shirt was a little on the small side, therefore clinging to her curves a little more than she would have liked, but it couldn't be helped.
She even did her hair carefully too, putting it up into bun, but making it fancier. She was finally ready then, but before leaving the bathroom she took out sheets of paper from the pouch around her neck, gazing at what was on them for a few minutes before putting them away with a determined smile.
Time to face the world again.
Her eyes didn't really show any signs of crying unless you were very observant so as to notice the slightly red tinge. She had spent over half an hour in the bathroom before she finally stepped out of the bathroom and then out of the RV, looking around for Duncan.
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