lumy12

Page Ten

"We're gonna eat, so I guess we should go to a restaurant," you say with a grin.

"Good call." The two of you start ambling the horses over to a restaurant called Denny's a short way down the road. You wonder if Joel remembers that you had a meal in one of these before. "This one on you?" Joel teases.

"Sure! Er-- wait, you mean like... I pay?"

"Yes."

"I thought the guy was supposed to pay! If he wants to fuck the girl, anyway."

Joel snorts. "It's got nothin' to do with sex. Just cuz a man pays, it don' mean--"

"Well then why does he pay? If he's not doing it to be nice -- 'cause you always say guys are assholes, so I know it's not that." You might be playing this up a little bit... but you love making Joel laugh... and I just did! Awesome!

"Maybe he's tryin' to impress the girl."

"Ohhhhh -- make her think he's nice. So she'll fuck him."

Joel chuckles. "Yep, you figured it out."

"Then it does have something to do with fucking!" you say triumphantly. "Do you like this spot? For the horses?"

"Yes, this is fine." Joel slides off his horse. "It's traditional for the man to pay. Definitely on a first date. I'd say the second, too. After that, maybe the girl can pay sometimes, if she wants to. If a guy forgets to bring his wallet on a first date... or second... or maybe ever... she should just run. He's bad news."

You almost ask him why, but then remember from movie-watching that people used to use wallets to carry stuff like money... and plastic cards designed to pay for things. "Okay, so if you're letting me pay, it must be at least our third date?" You giggle a little as you tether your horse to a post.

"At least."

To your delight, you feel his arms encircling you from behind. You lean back against him. "Okay. What if I forget my wallet? Like today -- I don't have it. Do you run?"

He plants little kisses on your neck that make you shiver pleasantly. "Mmm... nah. You're too cute. I'd just pay."

"Oh! So what if the girl thinks the guy is cute -- so she doesn't mind paying either?" You twist around so you can kiss him on the lips.

"She should still run," Joel says sagely. He kisses you, but fairly chastely... and you would bet his eyes are still open, glancing around.

You giggle softly. "What do you call that... a double... something?"

"A double standard? Yeah, maybe it is. But today it don' matter... I can feel you brought your wallet. It's in your pocket." He grins...

...and you squeal a little when he gropes your ass. "Ha! So that's all you have to do... cop a feel before dinner and judge your date on what you find." You slide your hands around to his backside to return the favor; as long as your hands grope fabric and not skin, he'll let you do it uncontested.

"By that definition, anyone with a nice ass can be forgiven for not havin' their wallet?"

"Yeah, that sounds good!"

He kisses your nose. "I think the guy might get slapped... especially since the girl prob'ly has the wallet in her purse, not her pocket. C'mon, let's go in."

Reluctantly, you let him slip away from you (though not before giving him one last squeeze!), and he grabs a saddlebag that has food in it. "If I'm paying, that means I get to pick the table, right?" you ask brightly.

"That's fine, but hold up--"

You know he likes to go in ahead of you, no matter where you are (it's a habit that even Jackson hasn't broken him of), but you're already bounding towards the door... or, double doors, one of which is missing. You go in and check the place out. Thanks to the broken door and several broken windows, it's not as stale and musty as it could have been... it's dusty as fuck, though. And somewhat dark, even with the sunlight streaming through. The floor is reasonably uncluttered. It's not entirely unlike a restaurant in a movie... You choose a booth in a corner and use your sleeve to wipe off the table (neglecting the dusty seats... what's a little more dirt on your jeans?) while Joel checks the place out to his satisfaction.

When Joel returns, though, he doesn't take a seat; he just stands in front of the table.

"Don't you like this spot?" You tug lightly on his sleeve. "Look, it's perfect, we can keep an eye on the horses from here!"

Joel doesn't budge. "The table's fine. But we ain't alone here."

"Oh!" You've slid out of the booth and have your 9-millimeter in hand before it occurs to you that Joel isn't acting like there's an immediate threat.

He puts a hand on your shoulder. "No, not like... it's just one guy, in bad shape. He's over there... in front of the kitchen."

"Infected?"

"I don't think so -- well, not like that. He might have a wound that's infected. I'm gonna go put him down. Didn't want you to be alarmed by the gunshot."

"Wait! Put him down? Like he's an injured horse or something? Maybe we can help him."

Joel shakes his head. "I think it's too late for that. Go see for yourself."

You go around the corner where Joel directs you, and in the semi-dark you see the man... not real young but not real old, slumped against the wall so much that he may as well just lay all the way down. He smells like a lovely combination of sweat, dirt, urine, and... something putrid. His T-shirt and jeans are ripped and blood-stained, and filthier than even yours have probably ever been... and he's not wearing shoes! For some reason, that strikes you as a sadder sight than the blood. He's shivering, and making unintelligible whispery noises... not unlike Joel when he mumbles in his sleep. The natural lighting's not that great over here, but there's enough to show that his pale skin has an odd yellowish tint to it (...okay, maybe that is courtesy of the lighting? or lack thereof. Whatever -- it's not healthy-looking skin). You peer a little closer and see that his eyes are open, staring straight ahead... he doesn't seem to notice you and Joel. He's totally helpless. Do NOT think about that first winter with Joel, you order yourself. "Do you think he has a fever?"

"Looks like it. If he had a bag or any kind of personal effects, someone stole 'em. Go on back to the table, you don't gotta watch."

You bite your lip. The guy doesn't seem to have any huge gaping wounds (you suppose he would have bled to death by now if he did)... maybe you should be trying to save him, not kill him. "Joel, wait..."

"He's beyond help, Ellie. What do you think we can do for him, other than end his sufferin'?"

"I don't know! Just... something?" Or maybe Joel's right. Maybe killing him would be the kinder thing to do?

If you decide to help the man, turn to page 22.

If you let Joel kill the man, turn to page 24.