(the edit attached above is how I picture each character--who haven't all quite come in yet--or really who I think best fits the descriptions. of course you can picture any of them however you like, but here's a reference in case any of you wanted one. thank you so much for reading x)
CHAPTER TWELVE
SHE DOESN'T KNOW WHY Delia's death hits her so fiercely, so intensely that her knees buckle just when she's out of sight of the camp. Her breathing is rapid and uneven, and her hands are shaking. She tears them through her knotted hair, gritting her teeth together as if it'll put the tears at bay.
Not too long into her hysterical fit, Evelyn realizes it's not just Delia's death that's made her breakdown. It's all the deaths before hers, all the deaths that will be after hers. It's the amount of people Evelyn has seen die, good and innocent people who should've lived a long and healthy life. It's the war and the beasts and this new lifestyle where it's killed or be killed.
It's the person she never wanted to become.
She nearly left an eight year old boy behind, for heaven's sake, simply because he would've been one more mouth to feed. She nearly let Delia fall out of that tree, nearly let her die before she had even been injured.
She let her own family die.
She let them get murdered by a bunch of despicable animals out for power and control and sick amusement.
She didn't help them. She ran. She ran and ran and ran, and even though her mother had told her to, Evelyn knows she didn't mean it. No one ever wants to be left behind. It's a stupid heroic tactic. Evelyn should've stayed and found a way to save them all instead of letting them become lunch meat, or whatever it is the beasts' want from humans. Nothing she thought of sounded remotely close to merciful--or necessary.
None of this is necessary.
Not the war before the beasts, and not the war with the beasts.
She intakes a shuddering breath, using the hem of her shirt to wipe at her eyes furiously. She hasn't cried in months, yet somehow it eases her mind a bit. To let all of it out instead of bottling it up as if it doesn't bother her in the slightest.
That doesn't mean she'll cry in front of other people, though.
She makes sure all the tears have escaped her before getting to her feet, straightening her back. She lets out a deep breath and spins on her heel, walking back to the camp. She doesn't look at anyone when she breaks through the trees, however, she can feel them all looking at her.
"We need to keep moving," she says hoarsely, keeping any emotion out of her voice. She slings her pack around her shoulders.
"What about Delia?" asks Robbie between sniffles, his eyes red.
Evelyn says softly, "We don't have a way to bury her, kid."
"We can't just leave her here," he shrieks. Poppy whimpers in his arms. "What if they get to her? She deserves to sleep peacefully, Eve."
Evelyn jumps when Harry's hand falls on her shoulder, but he gives it a squeeze and walks off. She holds back a groan. "Well, we can't leave right now anyways since our only tour guide out of here just left."
"Can I look for flowers?" whispers Robbie, hugging Poppy like his life depends on it.
"Yeah," she sighs, rubbing her forehead. "But I don't think you'll find any."
He does, yet not technically flowers. They're those weeds that appear to be purple flowers, but Evelyn doesn't tell Robbie that. Let him believe they're actual flowers if it makes him happy to know Delia can rest with them.
Harry comes back with an armful stones. The brick-sized ones the bury themselves on the sides of rivers and streams. He doesn't so much as wince when he lets them tumble from his grasp, and then disappears once more, except this time everyone knows he's going to get more.
Evelyn relaxes a little knowing there's a river or stream nearby. It would be easy to find the way out of the woods with a path of water to lead the way.
Robbie and Sasha work together to pile the stones on top of Delia's body, starting with her feet. When Harry comes back and sets down another armful, Evelyn follows him to get more to make the process go by faster. The stream is small and flowing with murky water, but it's a stream nonetheless and something about it calms Evelyn's nerves a bit. She's baffled at how deceiving the stones had been--they hadn't appeared to be so heavy, and she's yet again cursing herself for being amazed with Harry's strength.
He had made it seem like he was carrying marshmallows.
She can only carry about a third of what he can, but with her help they get the last bit of stones for Robbie and Sasha to use. Then the three adults (well, Evelyn is eighteen, but technically an adult, and she doesn't know how old Harry is exactly, but he doesn't look much older) step back and watch the two kids cover Delia's body. Evelyn feels her throat tighten, so she directs her gaze to the ground for the sorrow to pass.
The kids hesitate when they get to Delia's face. She still looks free of stress and filled with peace, and Evelyn finds herself envying that. A lot of people couldn't handle the war, nonetheless these beast-things, and offed themselves the moment it got too much. Evelyn hadn't been able to take that route, and she still can't.
Robbie puts the last stone in place, then sets his mistaken-for-flowers in the middle of the pile of stones. The kids take a step back and Sasha grabs his hand. Robbie is crying again, but this time it's controlled and voluntary. It doesn't jerk his body or interrupt his breathing; he's just quietly mourning.
Evelyn debates on going closer, but she doesn't have to. Robbie lets go of Sasha's hand and whips around so fast, he collides into Evelyn's legs. She almost loses her footing as he wraps his small arms tightly around her waist, shoving his face into her stomach and wetting her shirt with tears.
Awkwardly, she pats his head. She's never been good with other people's sadness or how to help them get through it. She's never been good with her own sadness or how to cope.
Sluggishly, they pack up their things and leave Delia's body behind in silence.
***
It's been a bad day.
First Delia, then a beast had fallen from the trees and bitten Nive on the leg before Harry could take him out, and now they're at the treeline and there's a camp of humans up ahead, forcing them to stay in the bushes while Harry decides which way to go.
The camp is an IKEA store, but the people have done an impressive job at securing it. There's a barbwire fence trailing the perimeter, and every fifteen feet or so, there's a bulky guy with a gun on patrol. About ten guards that they can see, and though Evelyn isn't sure if there's even any ammo, it's a risk not worth taking. They don't need to lose anyone else, and Nive's injury plus her pregnancy would slow them down.
"What if they're nice?" Robbie asks quietly, his eyes hopeful.
Evelyn hates to crush that hope, but she needs him to think realistically. "I don't think people with guns patrolling a barbwire fence are nice. They might even shoot us on spot."
He pales, all the hope diminishing, and Evelyn has to look away to subdue the guilt.
"Perhaps they may help," Nive whispers, droplets of sweat dotting her face. Harry gives her a muddled look Evelyn can't decipher. "Most people would not shoot a pregnant woman, nor an injured."
"Most," Evelyn emphasizes. "We don't know if these guys are most people."
"The odds must be in our favor," says Nive. "I cannot go on in these woods much longer. For my baby's sake, I must take this chance."
"And if you and your baby get shot down?"
Nive holds Evelyn's glare, but doesn't say anything else.
Instead, she abruptly stands and marches out of the trees.
Evelyn curses under her breath. Sasha is right behind her, as always, clinging to her side. Harry chews his lip, the tips of his fangs showing, but he reluctantly follows as well. Robbie waits for Evelyn to make a decision, though, his eyes wide and bright and scared. She curses some more, then grabs his hand and trails after Harry.
"Stay close to me," she tells Robbie, who frantically nods, squeezing her hand in one of his and embracing Poppy close in the other.
"Excuse me," Nive says, raising her voice just loudly enough for the guards at the front of the fence to hear.
They whirl to face her, guns at the ready and she holds her hands high in the air to show she means no harm. Evelyn can feel the eyes of the rest of the guards scan over their scraggly group, but she keeps her own straight ahead at Nive's back.
"We need help."
The guard who stands the tallest, and who Evelyn also concludes as the leader of the men, spits to his side, then examines Nive head to toe. "You and the rest of the world," he remarks, then motions with his gun to her stomach. "Feel sorry for that bugger coming into such a shithole."
Nive doesn't falter, but she does place a hand over her bump. "Is there a doctor around? We don't want to be a bother. Only asking for some assistance."
The man has jet black hair that hangs over into his eyes, and he's constantly flicking his head to get it out of his face. He looks mid-twenties, stubble along his strong jaw. He's not the buffest guy in the world, but he certainly doesn't appear to be the weakest, either. He's of average build, yet makes up for that plainliness with arrogance.
His eyes meet Evelyn's, a smirk tugging on his lips. "You need assistance too, babe? I'll personally be happy to oblige."
Evelyn rolls her eyes, but folds her arms across her chest as if to hide from him.
Nive steps in front of her, and Evelyn mentally thanks her. "A quick visit," she says. "We don't want any trouble."
Harry had been trying to stay in the back of the group, keeping his eyes away from the other guards. Unfortunately, Mister Pervert notices.
"What's up with him? Is the poor dude shy?"
"You want to answer her question or keep wasting our time?" Evelyn snaps, unable to help it but also feeling a bit defensive for Harry.
Mister Pervert looks back at Evelyn, full out grinning with surprisingly white teeth. "So she does speak."
Her hand falls on the hilt of her dagger instinctively. "She can do a lot more than speak," she grumbles, however, doesn't catch how the sentence would sound to a filthy mind.
Of course, he catches it. "Oh, I hope she can. Maybe she'd like to demonstrate." He winks, and she's this close to "demonstrating" by throwing her dagger into his throat.
"Please," Nive begs. "Are you the leader at this camp?"
"Leader of the soldiers," he replies, crossing his arms. "But that's enough power to tell you all to get lost. Unless I were to be offered something." He smirks back at Evelyn.
"How about my foot up your ass?" she growls.
He shrugs. "Never tried the kink before."
She yanks out her dagger just when someone approaches the fence from the inside. A bald black guy with kind eyes, but two swords are crossed on his back. He's tall with broad shoulders, his chest puffing out without him even forcing it.
"Locke, you stirring up trouble?" he asks in a deep, rough voice.
Locke is still staring at Evelyn, his eyes gleaming in amusement at the sight of her unsheathed dagger. He doubts she'd do any damage. "No, sir. Simply keeping out pests."
A guard standing by opens the fence in a spot Evelyn hadn't noticed was cut. The big guys sends them a friendly smile. "You all look like you've been through hell and back."
Nive doesn't waste time. "I need help," she whispers, her hand on her stomach.
"Of course." He nods, almost to himself. "I'm Quincy. I'd be happy to show you all around, maybe even get you some fresh clothes. We got some water, not much of it, but you might be able to give yourself a quick washdown."
Evelyn is blinking at him, amazed at how easily he just invited them into his camp. Instantly, her distrust takes over and she stands stiffer, completely observant and alert.
"I can get Locke to show you folks to a room--"
"Or you could not," she interrupts, once again unable to stop herself. She tosses him a dirty look, but he merely winks at her.
Quincy chuckles, holding his hands out. "Or I could not," he repeats. "No worries. We got other guards that aren't so blunt. We just need to check you all for your weapons, then--"
Evelyn interrupts again. "If you think any of us are going in there unarmed, you're out of your mind. Needing medical assistance doesn't require us bending to your every fear. You promise not to attack, we promise not to attack. Simple as that."
Quincy meets her eyes and she holds his stare, unwavering. After a long moment, he gives another nod. "Fair enough. But don't be too hard on me for ordering more of my men to follow you around like dogs."
"As long as your men aren't dogs," Evelyn says, but doesn't look anywhere in Locke's direction.
"You think you're tough, don't you?" says the dog himself, laughing. "Fine by me. I bet it'd be more fun to--"
"Locke," Quincy warns, narrowing his eyes.
Shockingly, the perv falls quiet.
Quincy informs them that he's at least going to count their weapons so his men know what to watch out for. Evelyn doesn't bother arguing that point. He's understanding enough to let them stay armed, so there's no need for her to not understand his caution. Besides, she'd just been in awe at how trusting he is to let them into the camp in the first place.
Harry is lingering behind, and Evelyn stays at the end of the line to talk to him. "I can tell them you have a headache," she whispers, wishing she just had some sunglasses to give him instead. "You know, so you can keep your eyes closed. I don't think they'd be so welcoming if they saw red irises glaring at them."
As if already playing the part, Harry rubs his temple.
She grabs Harry's wrist when she gets to the front of the line, making sure he stays right behind her. She wonders if he could follow her with simply the sound of her footsteps, but obviously that'd be a dead giveaway that he isn't exactly normal. Evelyn only has her dagger, the knife from yesterday, and her bow and stick arrows.
"He's not feeling well," she tells Quincy when he gives Harry an odd look. "He's had a headache all morning, can't even open his eyes because the sun makes it worse. I've had to drag him around all day." She shuts herself up before she rambles past the point of being believable.
"He got any weapons?" asks Quincy.
Evelyn shakes her head.
He eyes Harry a while longer, then purses his lips and gives a curt nod. A smile creeps onto his lips as he spreads his arms in an extravagant gesture. "Well, welcome to IKEA paradise."