(no subject)
It was a cold cave, and dank, and Russell Butler was almost sure that the pervasive smell came from something that was probably prowling the mountainside right now with the intent of coming back soon. Nevertheless, it was shelter, and more of it than he and Jared were likely to find before the storm hit. A lean-to further down the slope might've been enough to fend off the snow and the wind, but not the critters that prowled these mountains. At least dug into the stone like this, they had a fair chance of plugging whatever beastie might try coming back to reclaim the place. Wouldn't be the first time they'd had to fight like hell just to keep what little they had.
No thanks to that bitch back in Rowlesburg. Jesus, was everybody on this side of the country soft in the head or something?
A clacking of stone on metal behind him caught Russell's ear; he turned a little, saw his older brother showering their bundle of tinder with sparks. As Jared tucked the flint away Russell said, "Are we good?"
"Yeah, we're good." Jared prodded another handful of dried grass up against the glowing places where the sparks had caught. "Am I or am I not the one who's started our last six fires on the first try?"
"I've got to hand it to you, Jared, you know your stuff." Russell scootched back out of his brother's way. "Think we got enough wood to wait out the storm?"
"Probably." Jared squinted towards the cave mouth, doing his best to eyeball the oncoming clouds. It wasn't easy. "These aren't the Rockies. Best I can do is guess, at least until we've been here a while longer."
Russell made a disgusted noise. "Don't even joke about that."
Jared fell silent, but the both of them were thinking the same thing. If it weren't for that damn half-breed Vance- if Freeman hadn't turned out to be the biggest race fraud this side of the Mississippi- if it weren't for that idiot Marine, if they hadn't had to pull a couple hundred Mexicans of all things out of the dead zone... well, if it weren't for all of that the question wouldn't ever have arisen. But the Resistance leadership'd been insane enough to pick up those wetbacks instead of saving good white Americans from the Combine processing plant and now they were stuck with 'em, and when it came down to living in the same handful of caverns as several hundred Mexicans and three leaders who were going to lead the remainder of the human race right down the path to ruin, there were just some things you could not do.
Better to take their chances with the winter weather, pack their supplies up, and make for one of the abandoned towns further along the river. They'd both learned to survive in the wild long ago. If they could hold out until spring they'd work out what had to be done to set things right on their own. For now, though, the snow was starting to fall and the fire was starting to catch in earnest. Russell held out his hands towards the flames and did his best to relax.
It didn't last long. A sound of scraping and stumbling brought him up- not to his feet, there wasn't room to stand straight in here, but at least he was on his knees and armed and facing the entrance alongside his brother. The dark shape that stooped down to peer in didn't resemble anything remotely Xen, though; Russell un-tensed a little. "Don't get excited," said the figure, its voice muffled. "I got me'n another human here, that's all. You got room in there for two more?"
Russell exchanged a glance with his brother. Jared nodded. "Come on in," he said. "Don't try straightening- oh..."
The first of the two newcomers scrambled into the cave on his belly like he was born knowing how, coming up and blinking at the Butlers from behind the lenses of a gas-mask strapped over two or three weeks' growth of beard. He looked familiar, but it was the second man to work his way in that dropped Jared to silence. Or, rather, the second man's armor suit and visible armaments, chiefly and most particularly the crowbar that chimed softly against the stone of the cave wall as he pulled in his feet.
There was a long, long silence in the moment following that ringing of metal on stone. Outside, the snow continued to fall.
Eventually, the masked man (the Marine, it had to be the Marine, there wasn't enough firelight to see his shoulder patches by but there wasn't anybody else it could possibly be) cleared his throat. "I dunno about you two," he said, his mountain twang muffled by the mask's filters, "but I ain't gonna start shit if you ain't."
Jared and Russell glanced at each other again. They had the strategic position in the cave if anything got started, and nobody had the advantage of numbers, and it was way too cramped in here to draw a weapon with any kind of speed. On the other hand, the both of them still got headaches from time to time, and if Russell remembered correctly the Marine hadn't even bothered to pick up so much as a ruler during the altercation at White Forest....
Jared said, surprisingly calmly in his brother's estimation, "We're willing to share the fire if you two are."
The Marine grunted, nodded, and settled back on his heels. Freeman didn't say anything. As a matter of fact, Freeman didn't say anything for the next sixteen hours, even when it was his turn to clear away accumulating snow from the cave mouth to keep them all from suffocating. He just sat, and watched.
Russell would remember that for a long, long time after the both of them left. Longer than whatever it was the Marine said about 'these are my mountains, bitches, so you best behave yourselves', anyway.
No thanks to that bitch back in Rowlesburg. Jesus, was everybody on this side of the country soft in the head or something?
A clacking of stone on metal behind him caught Russell's ear; he turned a little, saw his older brother showering their bundle of tinder with sparks. As Jared tucked the flint away Russell said, "Are we good?"
"Yeah, we're good." Jared prodded another handful of dried grass up against the glowing places where the sparks had caught. "Am I or am I not the one who's started our last six fires on the first try?"
"I've got to hand it to you, Jared, you know your stuff." Russell scootched back out of his brother's way. "Think we got enough wood to wait out the storm?"
"Probably." Jared squinted towards the cave mouth, doing his best to eyeball the oncoming clouds. It wasn't easy. "These aren't the Rockies. Best I can do is guess, at least until we've been here a while longer."
Russell made a disgusted noise. "Don't even joke about that."
Jared fell silent, but the both of them were thinking the same thing. If it weren't for that damn half-breed Vance- if Freeman hadn't turned out to be the biggest race fraud this side of the Mississippi- if it weren't for that idiot Marine, if they hadn't had to pull a couple hundred Mexicans of all things out of the dead zone... well, if it weren't for all of that the question wouldn't ever have arisen. But the Resistance leadership'd been insane enough to pick up those wetbacks instead of saving good white Americans from the Combine processing plant and now they were stuck with 'em, and when it came down to living in the same handful of caverns as several hundred Mexicans and three leaders who were going to lead the remainder of the human race right down the path to ruin, there were just some things you could not do.
Better to take their chances with the winter weather, pack their supplies up, and make for one of the abandoned towns further along the river. They'd both learned to survive in the wild long ago. If they could hold out until spring they'd work out what had to be done to set things right on their own. For now, though, the snow was starting to fall and the fire was starting to catch in earnest. Russell held out his hands towards the flames and did his best to relax.
It didn't last long. A sound of scraping and stumbling brought him up- not to his feet, there wasn't room to stand straight in here, but at least he was on his knees and armed and facing the entrance alongside his brother. The dark shape that stooped down to peer in didn't resemble anything remotely Xen, though; Russell un-tensed a little. "Don't get excited," said the figure, its voice muffled. "I got me'n another human here, that's all. You got room in there for two more?"
Russell exchanged a glance with his brother. Jared nodded. "Come on in," he said. "Don't try straightening- oh..."
The first of the two newcomers scrambled into the cave on his belly like he was born knowing how, coming up and blinking at the Butlers from behind the lenses of a gas-mask strapped over two or three weeks' growth of beard. He looked familiar, but it was the second man to work his way in that dropped Jared to silence. Or, rather, the second man's armor suit and visible armaments, chiefly and most particularly the crowbar that chimed softly against the stone of the cave wall as he pulled in his feet.
There was a long, long silence in the moment following that ringing of metal on stone. Outside, the snow continued to fall.
Eventually, the masked man (the Marine, it had to be the Marine, there wasn't enough firelight to see his shoulder patches by but there wasn't anybody else it could possibly be) cleared his throat. "I dunno about you two," he said, his mountain twang muffled by the mask's filters, "but I ain't gonna start shit if you ain't."
Jared and Russell glanced at each other again. They had the strategic position in the cave if anything got started, and nobody had the advantage of numbers, and it was way too cramped in here to draw a weapon with any kind of speed. On the other hand, the both of them still got headaches from time to time, and if Russell remembered correctly the Marine hadn't even bothered to pick up so much as a ruler during the altercation at White Forest....
Jared said, surprisingly calmly in his brother's estimation, "We're willing to share the fire if you two are."
The Marine grunted, nodded, and settled back on his heels. Freeman didn't say anything. As a matter of fact, Freeman didn't say anything for the next sixteen hours, even when it was his turn to clear away accumulating snow from the cave mouth to keep them all from suffocating. He just sat, and watched.
Russell would remember that for a long, long time after the both of them left. Longer than whatever it was the Marine said about 'these are my mountains, bitches, so you best behave yourselves', anyway.