DEFEATISM

29

Benedict has the bright idea to start a fire, which is quashed by the carbon dioxide having nowhere to go. Suffering both carbon monoxide and carbon dioxide poisoning within twenty-four hours is not their best and brightest plan.

Still, Benedict stands in Galilee's lounge looking out at the white outdoors. The sun makes it look warm. A quick opening of a window makes him sure that it isn't. From up here, he cannot tell how thick the snow is, how packed down it is. Could they trek through it? If they did, where would they try to go?

"You should sit down," Galilee tells him from the doorway.

Benedict shrugs. He's sure she can tell that each time he moves, he struggles. His knees are bloody again, and it's seeping through his pants. The hallways are too dark to notice the stain on his knees is blood and not anything else. Here, Galilee is the only one who can see. He knows her body so well, it is only fair that he lets her know his.

He shakes his head and Galilee walks in closer. She puts her arm on his shoulder and wraps her hands around his arms.

"We should find a way to get a fire going," Benedict whispers.

Her grip around him tightens, trying to pull him away, "even if it was safe, what would we burn?"

Benedict shrugs. Galilee's an English major, so she's bound to have books.

They enter the hallway and Benedict chuckles. A book burn. The only thing keeping them alive would be raw thoughts. Benedict's always had bad ideas in his head. Thoughts he would like to burn. Even now, thoughts, good or bad, aren't enough.

Ro hits one thousand, six hundred, and twenty-three dollars. And seventy-nine cents. Last she checked her phone, it was noon and they had no bars. It was surely less than ten minutes ago and there is no use checking again.

"Once I deduct my flight money, I'll split the rest of my lawsuit earnings with you all," Ro says, not to anyone in particular.

Darlington shrugs, "my share is yours."

"Of course it is, Damien Arlington the fifty-sixth or whatever," Ro can't help but grin. "Your father, the fifty-fifth is going to bail you out."

Darlington puts his hand over his lips to hide his smile, "my dad's Daniel Arlington. His brother was Damien, but he died when they were kids, so I'm Damien again."

Ro doesn't know what to do but laugh. She isn't used to telling herself stories, but she's been reading one all along. Damien Arlington, son of a father and then a grandfather and generations of men who wanted him to be just the same as them. She always thought he was. Turns out, it's a little different.

It doesn't truly matter. There's not going to be a lawsuit. At least, if there is one, it's going to be her parents trying to do one from Buenos Aires when they find out Ro froze to death up here. Her entire body is numb at this point. Anger has been powering Ro's circuit for so long, but the lack of power in the building has shut off the flow of rage as well. She just wants to go home. At the very least, she wants her body to be laid to rest there.

"This was a fun sleepover," Jerry muses.

Ro looks at him and tries not to smile. It was fun, wasn't it?

Marcellus raises an eyebrow, "have you ever been to a sleepover?"

"No," Jerry answers.

Galilee grins. Something's aren't bad. As far as bad days go, it's a two kind of day, but Jerry makes it a three. They both seem to have gotten what they wanted. Jerry has made friends and Galilee has spent a Christmas behind a camera and not in front of it. Bucket lists filled.