CYOA Page 54

[lumy12]

Page Fifty-Four

Even if they're poisonous, one little berry isn't enough to kill you, you rationalize as you pop one of those babies into your mouth. It's juicy...

...

...but it's also bitter as fuck! And Joel said it would be sweet?! You chew it slowly, wondering if the sweetness comes later... you debate spitting it out, but ultimately decide that would be wasteful, so you swallow it.

There certainly isn't a sweet aftertaste. All you taste is yuck.

And then... what's that noise? A rustling in the bushes that doesn't sound like wind... probably just some little animal. You don't care to investigate. All you care about now is ridding your mouth of this foul taste.

You hurry back to Joel with the branch, hand it to him, then casually go find your water canteen. You feel Joel's eyes on you. "What? I'm thirsty," you say defensively... which probably only makes you look guiltier...

Joel's look is so penetrating it's almost unnerving. "I'm sure you are. Because you ate one, an' it was bad. You ate one after I told you not to."

"No I didn't!" you insist after you've taken a few healthy swigs of water. The taste of the berry isn't gone completely, but the water seems to have helped. Or maybe it's the heat rising up to your cheeks... "I was thirsty before, but I had to go looking for you so I didn't take a drink, then we started doing the berries..."

Joel sighs. "Why are you lyin' to me?"

"I'm not!" you lie. You're actually wondering the same thing yourself, though. He obviously knows, so why bother?

"You are. It's all right... it's my fault. I should've known you couldn't resist temptation." He turns and starts filling the last jar with the berries you just brought him.

"Fiiiiiine," you groan. You hate it when he does that passive aggressive guilt trip thing. (And he thinks you're manipulative sometimes?) "I did try one. Just one. And it was disgusting. Are you happy now?"

"I'll be happy if you don't drop dead in the next half hour."

"Pfff. Please. Like that little thing is going to do anything to me... other than make me gag."

"I'll also be happy if it makes you throw up."

"Gee, thanks. Why are we even taking these back if they're no good?"

"Just 'cause it tastes bad raw don' mean it ain't the ones they make that wine with. They prob'ly add sugar, or somethin' else sweet."

Speaking of which... you root around in the food bag until you find an apple. This will get the bad taste out of your mouth for sure. You notice Joel still seems a little antsy. You might attribute it to being-Outside nerves, except it's worse today than it was yesterday. He says he can't shake the feeling that you two are being watched, but every time you look around, you see nothing suspicious. You tell him about the animal you heard while looking for the last berry branch, and he even goes back there to check it out, just in case... and there's nothing.

When you're maybe an hour or so down the road, your bowels start rumbling something fierce. You tell Joel you need to stop, like now, and when you tell him why, he looks at you with concern.

"It's not that bad," you assure him. "I mean... it's nothing worse than... it's nothing I haven't felt before."

Joel doesn't look like he believes you.

"Really!" you assure him again. "It's just a coincidence." You mostly believe that...

And by the time you're wiping your ass, you all-the-way believe it. It wasn't bad, it was just... immediate. You're very glad that you have toilet paper on this trip! And, although you were careful with your hands, you're grateful for the tiny bottle of antibacterial goop. It reeks of alcohol, but you suppose that's necessary for it to kill the germs, and it spares you from having to use first aid kit alcohol. After living in Jackson for over a year, you've once again become accustomed to washing your hands after you go, and using this gel approximates that clean feeling.

"Ellie! You all right?"

"Yeah, I'm fine! I'll be back in a minute!" you call back to Joel as you rub your hands together.

But you're not all right; your voice must have drowned it out... surely you would have heard someone coming up behind you...

* * * * * *

You don't remember being struck, but you must have been. You're waking up with a fucking bitch of a headache, and you can't move your arms... or your legs... or even your mouth? You blink groggily. Someone is directly behind you, tugging on something connected to your legs... your mouth is gagged with some kind of cloth that tastes like dirt... everything's still kind of blurry... your head is fuzzy...

The person comes around in front of you. "Looks like I got you fixed up just in time." A man's voice.

Fear starts trickling down your spine. Where's Joel?

The man leaves you alone with your fear and your troubling thoughts, closing the door behind him. The room comes into focus... it's a bedroom-sized room, with no bed... actually nothing inside it, just you and the uncomfortable chair you're tied to. There's one window to your right, the kind you slide back and forth, and it's intact. All you can see out of it is a wall, like a neighboring house, and some tree branches close enough to tap against it. It's big enough for you to climb through, should you get the chance. You can't see the sky, but outside in general seems... gray. Which means you've been here for hours.

You struggle against your bindings, your hands wriggling around uselessly... the knots are tight. So tight that you wonder when the cord is going to start cutting into your wrists. You hear voices outside... like down the hall... no -- below you. Fuck, I'm on the second floor? Might make climbing out the window a not-too-good option, unless that tree is close enough. You strain to hear what they're saying... the voices are too indistinct to make out.

You wonder if Joel's here, too. The least they could do is put you guys together! You remember now -- you were alone before this happened... maybe Joel's still out there. Maybe he's looking for you. God, I hope so!

Okay, THINK, Ellie... maybe you can loosen the knots if you keep moving... I don't know, it doesn't feel like it's helping, but... fuck, what do they want with me? They must want me alive, or they wouldn't go to all the trouble of hauling me to this house and tying me up, right? I still have my clothes on, so maybe they don't want... THAT. If I stay calm... and don't think about anything but getting out of here...

It's hard not to think about Joel, though. Hard not to worry about him. The fact that he's not here with you could mean that they didn't want him alive. Maybe they're not afraid of you causing them any trouble, but they were afraid of him...

No. He's not here because they DON'T HAVE HIM. He's going to find me!

You continue to strain to hear what the voices are saying. It sounds like there's at least three men. One of them must be getting a little excited because he raises his voice, and you hear a "but now he's dead!" before someone else apparently shushes him.

Who is dead? Was he lamenting the death of one of his own, or was he boasting about them killing Joel? Oh GOD please let it be the first one...

The voices subside... and your thoughts torment you, though you try your best to tune them out and focus on getting the fuck out of here instead. You have no idea how much time has passed when a man opens the door. You quickly note that he's not visibly armed, so he's probably not here to finish you off... you want to talk to him and find out what you can about Joel. Except how would you know if he's telling the truth? You also want to scream -- not just to vent anger and frustration, but to hopefully alert Joel to your whereabouts if he's anywhere near... or appeal to anyone in the area for help. Except who the fuck else would be out here to help you?!

The guy is apparently just checking on you, because he's about to close the door behind him when you start making as much noise as you can through the cloth in your mouth. He turns around, and you plead with your eyes for him to un-gag you. He takes a few steps toward you. "Yeah? You wanna talk? Tough shit. If I take that off, you're gonna scream."

You shake your head vehemently, then cringe at the fresh stabs of pain the action shoots through you. You try to say "I won't, I swear" and hope he can make out the muffled words.

He sighs and reaches for the gag. "You better not."

If he's worried about you screaming, he must be worried about Joel being nearby, right? It would be better if the window was broken, but the bedroom door is open; maybe your scream would carry through another window. Or... it's not like the walls are soundproof; from what you can tell, this is just some ordinary house.

On the other hand, this guy seems like he might not be an entirely heartless asshole. After all, he could have just ignored your request and slammed the door behind him. Maybe you should try to work him, not anger him.



If you scream at the top of your lungs, turn to page 105.

If you don't, turn to page 107.

Comments

Carlos

[(Anonymous)]

hummmm... this is so interesting.

Re: Carlos

[luminations.livejournal.com]

Yay! Glad you think so :)