CYOA Page 175
Sep. 12th, 2013 04:30 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lumy12"What you said... about laying a trap... I totally know what we can do!" you exclaim. You tell Joel your idea, and he of course gushes about how brilliant you are... just goes on and on extolling your virtues, singing your praises--
...Okay, so, not exactly. He says "that might work." That's it. But it's okay, because to be honest, while you think you'd like all the extolling and singing and shit, it would probably make you feel really weird and uncomfortable. (Plus, the plan is quite simple, and not at all brilliant.)
You eat your awesomely-blackened sausage (you did overdo it a little, but you won't admit that to Joel), hang out with Joel at the campfire a little longer, do your bedtime stuff... and lay the trap.
The horses are hitched near Joel's window, and you apologize to them for not picketing them, telling them it's for their own safety. They don't give a shit, of course, because they don't understand, nor do they understand your reassurances of "it's only for one night." Joel says something dismissive like "they're horses, they'll be fine" -- but even in the stables at home they have more freedom than this. You sure wouldn't want to spend the next eight or nine hours standing in the same position. When you say as much to Joel, he points out that you're a human, not a horse.
Joel tells you to go to sleep. Reassures you that he'll be sleeping with the proverbial one eye open, until/unless the guy shows up. You know that's true, but you still feel too awake to sleep. Too apprehensive... too anxious.
...Until you find yourself waking up -- in the master bedroom, because Joel wanted to be on the 'hunter' side of the home, which means the smaller bedroom (--as if it would make any difference?). You don't know what woke you up. All you know is you're awake now, sort of, and you hear... screaming?
A jolt of fear brings you to your senses quickly. It's a little kid... a child wailing. You jam your feet into your shoes, grab your gun, and sling your backpack on. "Joel?" you call out. You shine your light all the way down what is basically one room in the little mobile home and see that his door is open... but he does sleep with it open sometimes, if he wants to be 'less apart from everything' when Outside. You don't hear him... don't hear gunshots...
You run out the front door and spot him immediately. He's crouching over someone... a body, it looks like. "Is that the hunter?" you ask... stupidly. Who else would it be? Oh God... he had a little kid with him?
"Ellie, be careful!" Joel cautions. "I gotta pick 'em all up still."
"I'll get them. Uh... what about him?" Your flashlight beam lights up the wailer... a little boy, you think. Like, toddler-age little. He's pretty far away from everything.
"I'll get them. You... go get the kid. ...Goddamnit." He stands up, and you see that the hunter is not very hunter-like at all -- it's a girl, and she's probably close to your age.
"Oh my God..."
"Just go get the kid. An' be careful."
But you know there was only one bomb in this area, and she got that one. Your direct path to the kid is hazard-free.
He stops crying as you cautiously approach him. He doesn't seem to be afraid of you. The explosion must have freaked him out. Hopefully his sister didn't have a flashlight, so he wouldn't have actually seen her...
You kneel a few steps in front of him. "Hey, little dude," you greet him, injecting false cheer in your voice. People back home have told you you're good with kids. You twist your light on your backpack strap so that it shines in a neutral spot and not right in his face. "My name is Ellie. What's your name?"
He stares blankly at you. Big brown eyes, a mop of tousled brown hair... he would be really cute if he wasn't so filthy and... smelly (yep, the bad connotation of the word definitely applies!). His clothes seem to be a couple sizes too big. You realize that although he's dressed like a boy, he very well could be a girl. A name would be helpful... "Are you a boy, or a girl?" you try. "Cuz... I'm a girl, but I dress more like a boy. Dresses are just... not for me. Blech!"
He doesn't say anything, but he does look at you with a little more interest. Knowing his gender isn't important, and besides, you'll find out soon enough when you give him a very much-needed bath.
"Um... how old are you? ...how many fingers?" When you get no response, you again decide to answer for yourself. "I'm... so many fingers that I have to use my toes. But I'll just cheat -- I'm sixteen." You flash ten and then hold up six. "Your turn!"
He just doesn't seem to get it. He might be too little, or maybe his sister didn't explain ages to him. What else, what else... "Are you hungry?"
"Hungry!" he answers. "Hungry!"
"Okay! I have food. Let's go get some, okay? And you can meet Joel. Can you give me your hand? ...hey, wait, where are your shoes? Do you have shoes?"
"Hungry!" He thrusts his little hand at you.
You wonder if you should pick him up. He's just so gross that you really don't want to. You feel like a selfish asshole for that; you just killed his sister, possibly his only companion in this world-- oh God I HOPE there aren't any more kids out there... You assume if there were any adults around, they wouldn't have sent a teenager and a toddler to come and rob you. Then again, who knows? Lots of shitty people out there... and not that many Joels.
You feel horrible... and yet, a part of you is also Joel-like about it: if a person is going to hurt you or steal from you, you treat it as us-or-them. Does it really matter that it was a young girl and not some creepy guy? It's easy to assume all hunters are assholes. Makes it easier to kill them. If they're NOT assholes, they're survivors, not hunters. WE are survivors. ...But we kill people, too. It's all kind of confusing if you think about it too hard. Point is, you did nothing wrong -- you were defending yourselves.
But you have a feeling that even Joel is going to have a hard time being Joel-like about this one.
You hold tight to the little hand, in case Joel hasn't retrieved all of the nail bombs yet. Oh God... I can't let the little guy see that body, if he hasn't already seen it from back here? You direct your light way off to your left. "Joel?" you call to him. "We're coming back... should we maybe go... the back way?"
"No. Do NOT go around the back, you hear me?" He's inside, but obviously can hear you through the open windows.
"Understood." You sweep the light back over... and, sure enough, the body is gone.
"Hungry!" the boy reminds you.
"I know, I know, hold your horses, dude," you say lightly. "Joel, what should we give him to eat? He's hungry."
"Prob'ly thirsty, too, I reckon..."
"Thirsty!" the boy echoes.
"Okay, let's go inside. Up the stairs here... there ya go..." The tiny hallway won't allow you to walk side by side, so you give him a little push ahead of you. "Go see Joel over there."
He starts to, but freezes well ahead of Joel, who is rummaging through one of the saddlebags. You catch up to the kid, and he looks up at you. "Where's Mommy?"
...What the fuck?! You exchange a look with Joel. That teenage girl... ? We killed his MOTHER... and it was your idea. You did it. "Your mommy... is that who you were with? Outside?"
He nods. "I want Mommy."
"Your mommy ain't here right now," Joel says simply. "But me'n'Ellie... we're gonna give you food and water, okay?"
He stares at Joel, wide-eyed.
"Don't be scared of him," you chirp. "I know he looks mean and scary, but he's not -- Joel, try not to look so mean!" Joel starts to protest but you keep chattering to the kid. "And you should see him when he's wearing all his guns and shit! Er... stuff. His stuff."
"It's all right," says Joel, whose expression is actually softer than usual. "It makes sense. You look kinda like his mom. Who... if she's really his biological mom, couldn't've been more than thirteen, fourteen... when she got pregnant."
"Oh! Yeah, maybe she's not bio-mom. I hope not, cuz... yeah." Maybe she found him somewhere. Or she's his sister, but he was too little when they lost their mom, so she became 'Mommy.' You'll probably never know.
"If she is, his dad must be... a real winner."
"Maybe she just looks really young. Remember you thought I was twelve when you met me? And I was fourteen." You kneel and look at the kid. "Is your daddy out there, too?"
"Mommy. Where's Mommy?"
"I take that as a no," says Joel. "Okay, little man, you want some water? I've got your cup." He has a little sippy cup! You recognize the (quite faded) red car on it. It's from a cartoon.
"Where'd you get that?" you ask dumbly; obviously the girl had a bag or something.
"Found a few things. It was empty, though. An' no food." Joel stands and takes a few steps toward you.
The boy moves behind you and starts to whimper.
Joel sighs. "He's prob'ly had bad experiences with men. Here..." He passes the cup to you. "I'm gonna slice up an apple. You like apples, kid?"
You turn and give the cup to the boy with a smile. "Here you go. Drink up." He sucks the water down greedily. You glance at Joel. "How old do you think he is?"
"Two... three, tops." Joel starts slicing an apple on a coffee table (a coffee-less one, of course)... which you assume he wiped off with something, even if it was just his sleeve, because it's pretty dusty in here. "Did you ask him his name?"
"Of course. He wouldn't tell me. Or maybe he doesn't know it? Is that possible?"
"I doubt it. He can talk... he should know it. He, uh... needs a bath really bad."
"Yeah I know," you groan. "Maybe... we can clean him up a little and then... at the hospital they can give him a real bath, right? ...We are gonna take him with us...?"
Joel looks up from his slicing to give you a Look. "Nah, I figured we could just leave him here. Let him fend for himself."
"Juuuust checking!" You turn back to the boy. "Hey, can you come sit over here with me? You said you're hungry, right?"
He nods and takes your hand.
"Okay. Joel here is cutting up this apple for you. Into tiny little pieces. ...Really tiny little pieces," you add when you see how paper-thin he's slicing it.
"You don't want him to choke, do you?"
"Right. Okay. So, we're going to sit by Joel. Joel is a good man. Do you know what that is?" ... ...Apparently not. But he lets you lead him over to the couch. "It means he's very nice. He won't--"
You cut yourself off in surprise as the kid marches right up to Joel, who still has the knife in hand. He grabs a fistful of skinny apple slices from the table and shoves them in his mouth.
"Hunger is stronger than fear," you observe. "Okay, but dude -- come on, you have to sit. Sit and let Joel finish cutting it for you. Sit next to me. I'll pass them to you."
Joel resumes slicing. "Don't eat so fast, little guy. It ain't goin' nowhere. You can have as much as you want. But slow."
"Slooooowwwwww," you agree. "Like this--" You mimic very slow chewing.
He doesn't seem to be listening, though. He reaches for more before he's done chewing the first wad. You do manage to get him to sit, though, and you convey to him that he needs to swallow what's in his mouth before adding more.
Joel chuckles. "You should take your own advice, kiddo."
"I don't eat too fast!" you cry with mock indignation. "...at least, not anymore," you add sheepishly. You do know what it's like to be that excruciatingly hungry, though. Joel does, too. It's sad to see a two-year-old experiencing it.
He does slow down some, after he's got some apple in his belly. And he now seems to be fascinated with Joel, rather than scared. He's probably never heard anyone who talks funny like he does, you muse. Hell -- maybe he's never even seen a man before? ...Is that even possible in this world?
He keeps asking where his mommy is, and announcing that he wants his mommy. Joel says you guys are lucky he's not crying for his mommy... at least, not yet. And he assumes that since the kid's not totally freaked out by the two of you, he must know some other people... that he has been separated from his mom before, if only for short periods of time.
Two or three hours later (by your estimation... Joel's is more like an hour), the boy -- and yes, you know for sure now that he is a boy -- is asleep in 'your' bed, marginally cleaner in dirty pajamas, with a full belly and a tear-stained face. ...And no mommy to kiss him good night.
Well, you never had that yourself, and you turned out okay, didn't you?
Continue to page 249.
Carlos
Date: 2020-12-15 06:25 am (UTC)RE: Carlos
Date: 2020-12-15 01:40 pm (UTC)...yeah I would feel bad too :(
Aww Joel wouldn't be so mean