found yourself in a new direction; arrows falling from the sun

   beau dales is not a idle leader. he’s a man of initiative, a deep-rooted belief in leading by example : no ‘ do as i say, not as i do ’ bullshit from him. he wakes at dawn, a habit he’s yet to break  he can still remember the last time he slept in : the smell of coffee, rosaline rushing around to prepare for the BABY SHOWER … cadet jumping up and down on the bed excitedly. his head aches from the flood of memories, a pang in his chest following suit. he’s so lost in memories he’s nearly forgotten that he’s gone for a walk. but a disembodied voice pulls him from the past : 

   he looks up, regarding the figure curiously. he’s not altogether shocked : more surprised by the woman’s dexterity.  ❝ no, ❞ he calls up, head cocked to one side. ❝ are you ? ❞ he doesn’t DOUBT her abilities but beau is generally unwilling to fight a lady. ❝ just passin’ through, ma’am. sorry to disturb ya’. ❞

Hunter’s brows furrow, eyes narrowing to gaze through the heavy foliage beneath her. The man below is far enough away that she can’t make out too many details, but he looks and sounds older than many men she’s come across in Cheyenne. Curiosity pulls her down from the higher branches to get a better look.

Despite the relative safety of the spotty canopy, Hunter had slept no more than a handful of minutes at a time--REST slipping through fingers with the hour hands of a long broken watch. When the sun had come up, she’d finally dozed off into a deeper slumber only to be disturbed by the cracking of foliage beneath the steady gait of a living person.

               “most of the schools got huge alarm systems installed after colombine and after the terrorist attacks on 9/11 - it kind of became sort of standard issue.   you know, in case something like that ever happened again.    most of the schools had them installed, even some of the smaller public schools had security doors and fire exits wired up to sound alarms,” she looked back to the source of the sound - to HOME - “but… fire doors don’t MAKE that sound.”  her light brows creased to show her confusion and frustration.

         “saddle ridge would make the most sense, but they’ve got people up inside that building.   if it’s their alarm they might as well ring the damned dinner bell for the walkers.”     janicka’s eyebrows rose, “the country club? that’s where i live now… i’ve been there for about two years though,” no one paid attention to the small, blonde girl who’d spent most of her days crying… now she wasn’t that TIMID.     “i’m janicka - but i spend most of my time with a guy called topher, so i’m not usually at camp.”   she extended her hand as a gesture of good-will and trust, “company is always good, i got a feeling this is not going to end well.”

“I never went.” The words were spoken weakly even by a strong girl with a husky voice--the deficit of her peers’ education her BIGGEST insecurity. Hunter made the effort to look like she knew what the girl was talking about. Of course she had heard 9/11 mentioned--in arguments where her mother begged for the kids to have normal lives and her father invoked names and dates. It was years before she knew about it, by then it seemed so distant and removed from her reality in rural Oregon. “What do they sound like? What makes this sound?”

It was Rey’s first time being south of the city. Usually, he stuck with familiar territory, which happened to be Route 85. He’d go as far as a four day’s walk before things started getting strange in his mind. Maybe it was because he was so close to La Grange, or maybe his mind was getting too dependent on being with other people to function (which Rey would gladly take). He did the same following the Lincoln Highway. He was more prone to mistakes then but he figured he caught some good game and found a few settlements that still had some seeds hidden away in cubbies to give to the traders. 

When the sirens started, he gulped. They reminded him of snowstorm warnings back in Minnesota. As much as he relished in remembering a time before cages and fists, he didn’t like the chilling sensation that started at the ball of his back and crept its way up. “Returning,” he murmured before looking at the other survivor, “Back where I grew up, they used alarms like that as a snowstorm warning. Snow would block us all in our houses, it was almost as tall as our house, I remember… Do you have a place to get to?” Rey wasn’t about to leave someone stranded. Alarms were never a good sign, even if t was false.

There hadn’t been sirens in Pendleton--the nearest town of any particular note to Hunter’s family compound save, maybe, Antelope or Athena. The compound had made use of their own alarms, sure, but that was after the outbreak and she’d known well about them. Her father’d put them up in case folks tried approaching the compound either for supplies, help, or more nefarious reasons. Regardless of intent, those folks were promptly frightened off--if they were lucky--or killed, if they weren’t.

         janicka jumped at the sounds - flinching as she had done over two years ago as a sixteen year old girl.   now… despite how she had TRIED her best to nullify the strange DESIRE to destroy - she reached to the knife concealed at her hip.    a girl with a knife at her hip and a flower crown on her blonde locks - what a sight…   ( a far cry from the girl who walked up and down the streets in a pink sequinned dress with blood spatter on her arms and a gore-y baseball bat as her only weapon. )   

              “sounds like -   an… EVAC alarm…   i didn’t think any of them would still be working,” she mused, going over what she knew of emergency grids and back-up generators, “could be something tripped in one of the schools?   like an emergency school evacuation?”  but it didn’t make it feel any less… worrisome.    “i’m heading back - i came out to gather up some plants for topher haas and i to transfer to the gardens…   but now i don’t know if it IS safe.”

The cascade of blonde waves, emanating from the crest of a wildflower crown, was a ghost image of the girl who had once been her dearest friend. She wasn’t here anymore; Eden was not a place on Earth. This girl, beneath the tousled hair and big eyes, contained a stronger edge--and she was friendly, a rare combination.

“Don’t know that I’d even thought ‘bout the school alarms.” Hunter nodded seriously. She’d heard alarms, sure--they’d hand them in the compound--but she’d never been to a public school. Perhaps the rest of the world hadn’t been as entirely unprepared as her father had led them to believe. “You thinkin’ Saddle Ridge?” Hunter didn’t really know anyone there and hadn’t lived at the camps in a long time, but she had a healthy respect for the idea of them. 

“I’m Hunter. I used to live at the Country Club awhile back, but I’ve been livin’ on my own--” she didn’t include Huan in case the girl wasn’t as trustworthy as her young face suggested. “--If you don’t mind, I’m happy to accompany y’ back in case things get harry.”

“Well, I’ve never heard a worm speak so until I do, I’ll consider you ahead of the race.” How was it possible to fake so much cordiality, so much respect? He’d never been taught either. He could paint a smile so bright on his lips it left the world blind – he could be so wonderful. The rot underneath his skin wasn’t even slightly noticeable under such expert facade. Hell, he even made her snort; a sign of a real – repressed, but real – laugh. An indication of amusement, enjoyment. Trust often started with good humor. His stance was visibly relaxed, an indication of confidence in their interaction ( confidence that she wouldn’t suddenly try to slit his throat – something he didn’t really feel but fabricated regardless ), and something to prove to her that he was at ease in her presence. A lie, sure, but the person Theo was playing was far softer than whatever sort of man he usually was. “Can’t argue there.” She was vulgar in a way that most might consider unappealing. Like apple cider among champagne. Her class was evident ( he’d climbed up many social ladders in his world of lies, and he knew sore thumbs when he saw them ). Yes, vulgar – yet the reality in her, the explicit truth of her being was…charming. The brunette wasted no time with intricate vocabulary nor did she try to seem like more than what she offered at first glance. Transparent. Somehow, that was beautiful. A man who told so many lies could appreciate honesty – perhaps even more than anyone else could. “Yeah – we are; but maybe we shouldn’t be,” there was no insinuation, no double standard, in his tone. Just candid words spoken like a soft man; friendly. “Hunter,” he nodded, a smile forming on his lips, “I like that. It suits you.” He looked back up at her, brown eyes shinning as if the light had never left them. “My name’s hardly as cool as yours – I’m Theodore; Theodore Langley. Theo works fine though. I think Mom had a thing for Roosevelt at the time.”

Hunter’s eyes watched him cautiously--they could change from forest canopy to those of a hawk’s in a moment’s notice--but her lips did not hesitate to curl into a smile. “That’s a dumb joke.” She told him, smile still plain on her face--evidence of her amusement in the words her husky voice marked as a failed humor. It was plainly and deliberately a lie. Hunter had learned a wariness of men since birth; a childhood that had given her the tools of survival had taught her a more important lesson. Men were not there to look out for her. In her younger years, they were jealous of her ( Jesse, her brother, primary among them ). As puberty hit them and she grew into her looks, they harbored an emotion much more dangerous than jealousy--something that fell somewhere between LUST and entitlement. The boys in the compound inherited her father’s belief that the world owed something to them and the girls in the compound--they didn’t factor into the ‘them’ that was owed. It was that simple. If the escape into the real world following the banishment of her sickly mother had taught her anything, it was that this phenomenon was not unique to the compound. It had spread as widely as the virus that had surely reanimated the dead. “It was sorta intended to.” Hunter smirked, chuckling darkly at the meaning behind her own words. “My mother taught me that Theodore Roosevelt was an impressive man.” It remained to be seen if the man before her was made of the same manner of stuff. “Theo suits you as well, I think. Theodore seems a mite formal.” Despite his niceties, there was a grit to the man before her. It was what had intrigued her long enough to stay. Men with soft words and rough hands interested her more than all manner of other folks. 

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