CYOA Page 119
Sep. 13th, 2013 08:00 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lumy12Get it together, Ellie! you scold yourself. You and Joel have faced much worse odds before. It's just one fucking Bloater. He's waiting for me to say something...
"I love you," is the first excuse to pop in your head.
He seems satisfied with it, though. "Love you too, kiddo." He turns back... to face his doom...
--NO.
You need to concentrate on doing your part. ...Yeah, cuz it's really fucking hard to hit something that big? Still -- you need to be ready so that the second Joel gives you the signal, you're on it. You creep closer... until he motions for you to stay put.
Joel waits patiently for the thing to turn the direction he wants. Hitting it from behind won't buy you much time, but every little bit helps. Your eyes dart back and forth between Joel and the Bloater. He motions "ready"... well, not technically, but you can read his body language. And then...
GO!
-Head shot! Not that it much matters with these guys; the bullet seems to have passed through fungal growth, not brains. Joel's fire assault doesn't stop it from advancing -- fucking quickly, too -- but of course, Joel knew this -- he positioned himself where he wanted, so that he could move in a path away from you, one that doesn't interfere with your line of fire--
Your second shot hits the Bloater in the back, and it's smoking so badly now that it's staggering, about to drop dead and open your gateway to comic para--
Wait--
What the fuck!
"JOEL!" you scream, though he probably can't hear you over the roar of the flamethrower. "BEHIND YOU!"
Fucking Clickers! And a couple Runners-- and Stalkers?--
Your fear for Joel paralyzed you for a moment, but now you're springing into action. The rifle is too slow for this -- you scramble to yank a Molotov cocktail out of your backpack and light it -- you can see Joel emptying the flamethrower on the Clickers, and you know he doesn't have another canister handy. He sees what you're doing, nods approval, and runs away from them -- out into the open and down the street. Even as he runs he's pulling another weapon.
You quickly calculate the target that will deal the most damage, allowing for their speed and the speed of your throw, then chuck the Molotov cocktail accordingly. Damn! Not quite where you wanted it--
But close enough! Once Joel hears it hit, he turns and looks for surviving infected to take out with... El Diablo, you can see now. You managed to fry three of the fuckers... and there's only three left! You don't want to bother with reloading the rifle so you pull your gun...
Joel's not in immediate danger. Knowing that he will target the one closest to you, you do the same for him -- you fire at the Stalker before it can make a beeline for him, felling it with two shots. Joel takes out the remaining two with as many shots himself, as he's using a more powerful gun than you are.
Joel jogs back to the store... disappears into the back of it. You know he's checking for any sleeping infected that missed the party. You also know -- again, by his body language, which is much more relaxed now, his gun arm nearly slack -- that he doesn't expect to find any (seriously, how could any of them 'sleep' through that shit?!)(unless maybe they were deaf before they got infected!).
You're eager to start sifting through the comics, but you're even more eager to hurl yourself into Joel's arms, so you head for the back of the store, too. You catch up with him in front of a tiny bathroom, and he can't even sheath his gun before you're jumping on him. You kiss him, opening your mouth to his immediately for a nice, deep, tingly, satisfying melding of your faces. Joel's into it as much as you are -- he even drops the gun so he can hold you properly. When you finally come up for air, you beam at him, so giddy you feel like you could laugh for no reason.
He smiles at you. "Damn... that wasn't even a bad one..."
"What, the fight? Yeah, I know -- I'm just happy! Did you see how many fucking comics are out there?"
"...Shit. Here I thought you were happy 'cause I didn't perish in the--"
You shut him up with another kiss -- a quick one this time (a five-second-er). "Of course I'm happy about that, too, DUH. Thank you!"
"For not dyin'?"
"And the comics," you smirk at him.
"We make a pretty good team." He kisses your brow. "C'mon, let's go look for your comic. What's it called again?"
"Inertia. That's the one I have to get. But there's others I want, too..." Either for yourself or for another interested party. You tug him by the hand into the comic book-y part of the store, nearly tripping over the dead bloater in your haste. You don't even know where to begin! "Look for Avengers... Batman -- or -girl -- The Hive... and something about being underwater-- about doing something underwater. Something weird." Fuck, what was the name of that one? "Um... Criminal: uh... The Last of... shit, what was it... oh, yeah-- the innocent! The Last of the Innocent--"
"How 'bout I just round 'em up an' let you look through 'em, yeah?" Joel offers with a chuckle. "There's more in the back, too. Remember to keep an eye out. We've already seen lots more infected in this town than expected."
Whatever-- you think, but don't say out loud. You do make a half-assed attempt at looking up from your piles at first, but then... well, you already know that Joel will expect you to be distracted, and that he won't suffer from the same level of distraction... like, at all... soooooo you're content to let him do his lookout thing. It's not taking advantage of him, you tell yourself. It's just being SMART. Because he's going to do it anyway, regardless of whether I do or not! Plus there's no one even left to see...
"I'm going to organize these," you announce, picking a spot to plop down amongst the mess of comics on the floor. "So the next person who comes along will have a much quicker time picking stuff out."
He kisses the top of your head, then musses your hair. "That's real nice of you. But I don't intend on spendin' hours in here."
"Why not? We've got the time."
"It ain't... look, we can stop on our way back, too. How's that sound?"
"Okay." You're already absorbed in your organizational task. "Oh -- Star Wars is good, too. And XMen..."
Joel keeps bringing you comics, stacking them in the area you've designated as 'incoming,' and you enjoy looking at each and every one. Flipping through the ones to add to the 'yes' pile to make sure no pages are missing or fucked up... it's hard not to read a little bit here and there... maybe more than a little bit... but for the most part, you think you're good about staying on task. There are many duplicates -- enough of the ones you want that you can pick out the copies in the best shape. You have no idea how much time has passed, but Joel has said something along the lines of "we should get going" no less than three times now. Each time, you plead for "just a little bit longer pleeeeeeease"... and each time, he gives in.
He tells you he's leaving for a minute, and you barely register what he says. He's probably peeing or something. You kind of have to go yourself, but you're reluctant to leave the little circle of comics you're creating around yourself, the sorted stacks growing taller and taller. Joel has pointed out that you don't even have the room to take all the ones you've picked out, but you explained that the 'yes' pile is first round only... that you'll go through them again and decide which ones make the final cut.
You find plenty of Savage Starlights... just not the one you need. Not yet. You're tempted to take some copies to replace the ones back home that have definitely seen better days. Accretion... Uncertainty... Foreign Element... Zero Point... you make a pile for them beside the 'yes' stack (er, multiple stacks, now... after it got so tall as to be really annoying to pick up when you knocked it over), even though you're pretty sure you won't have enough room.
You've told Joel that as soon as you find the one you need, you'll start that final phase, and then you can get going. Yet he still grumbles about wanting to leave.
It's not until the enticing scent of roasting meat wafts your way that you realize where he's gone. It's kind of strange that he's cooking now, when you just barely ate a couple hours ago. Plus it seems like it's about to rain... it's a little darker now, where you're sitting. Why does he have a fire going?
You could use a break to stretch a bit, so you decide to go find him. As soon as you step outside, you realize it's not going to rain... the sun is just starting to set, that's all. But... how did that happen so fast?!
Joel looks at you and chuckles; he's standing in front of the store but way to the side, and you know he's keeping an eye on both the street (never mind that no one else has shown up all afternoon) and the fire, which he must have built behind him, where there's dirt and stuff instead of pavement. "You look confused."
You walk toward him. "Uh, yeah... why is the sun setting so early? There's no way we've been here for that many hours already!"
He pulls you against his side. "You sure about that? Which do you think is more likely: the sun has all of a sudden decided to start settin' in the middle of the afternoon -- in summer, mind you -- or, you got so into readin' those comics that you--"
"I wasn't reading them!" you protest.
"Right, sorry -- organizin' 'em. You didn't read a single word."
You both know that's a lie. "Okay, well, why didn't you fucking tell me?"
"...Is that a serious question?"
"Yes!"
"Did I or did I not tell you that we needed to leave? Repeatedly."
"Okay, but... you never said it was so late. You seemed irritated. I thought you were just getting bored or something."
"I s'pose I was, a bit." He one-arm squeezes you, then pulls you around in front of him to completely encircle you in his arms. "But you kept askin' for more time..."
You play with his collar. "You could've dragged me away, you know. You kept... agreeing to more time."
He kisses your nose. "No I couldn't. You were so... -Watchin' you was like watchin' a kid openin' presents on Christmas morning."
"I'm not a kid," you remind him, teasingly -- scrunching your face into a childish pout (not the please-let-me-have-my-way pout that you use with some regularity).
"You are... an' you ain't," Joel replies, smirking as one hand travels south to squeeze your ass. "Dependin' on the context."
You giggle a little, delighted with the ass-squeezing. "Well, you still could've told me."
He pivots you around to the side, probably so he can eyeball the fire, and you notice something else. "Oh my God -- you got the horses, too?!" You actually forgot all about them!
"I knew you weren't listenin' when I told you I was gonna go let 'em graze for a while," he says with amusement. "That was a while ago."
You feel a little guilty... you just have to laugh at yourself. "Man... good thing you're here. If I was by myself, my horse and all my shit would get stolen, and then I'd starve to death, walled in by all those comics..."
"Mm. Well, that's why you keep me around. I'll take care of all the menial shit, an' be your bodyguard, while you do your... important work." He kisses you softly, stifling your next giggle before it erupts.
"Lucky me! So... we're sleeping here."
"Maybe not this exact spot, but yeah."
"I'm sorry, Joel. You must hate me," you lament, donning your best please-don't-hate-me look -- as if it's even necessary (he's obviously more amused than annoyed by all this!).
"Oh, yeah. 'Hate' ain't even a strong enough word for how I'm feelin' about you now."
"Fuck! Really?" You bite back another giggle. "How can I change your mind?" You start nuzzling his neck.
"Uhhhh... not like that." He extracts himself from your embrace, taking your hand instead. "At least not yet. C'mon... should be about time to eat. You still haven't found it, then?"
"No."
"That's too bad. Don't get discouraged. I've got a feelin' that... -I'm sure you'll find it tomorrow."
There's something strange about the way he said that... something mysterious. Maybe even mischievous. "You're... sure I will? Do you know something I don't? Or are you just trying to be like... optimistic."
"All right... I hope you find it tomorrow. Better?"
...Hmmm... maybe I imagined that tone? "I hope so, too."
Luck has been on your side lately; you have a good feeling that you're going to find what you're looking for.
...Oh -- and we'll find Danny, too!
If you'd like to start another adventure, return to page 1.
Carlos
Date: 2021-05-06 12:00 pm (UTC)RE: Carlos
Date: 2021-05-06 12:37 pm (UTC)