Fic: Cold In The Desert
Title: Cold In the Desert [2/?]
Author: Redlance
Fandom: Resident Evil
Rating: PG
Word Count:
Disclaimer: Nothing is mine. Except the story idea.
A/N: Giant span of time between updates. My muse is a bitch.
Summary: Claire Redfield leads her convoy across the sun-scorched land, feeling cold despite the heat. Alice enters their camp under a blanket of fire and finds a kindred spirit. Maybe warmth will find them together.
The sky is black when Claire finally moves. She’s watched the stars come out and the people finish their food then start preparing themselves for the night ahead. Some brought their stuff out of cramped vehicles and set up camp inside the cleared out rooms of the motel. It wouldn’t be much, maybe there would be a mattress or two left between the few rooms, most would be sleeping on the floor, but even just being given the opportunity to stretch out during sleep would make their smiles a little wider in the morning. It’s the little things now. Claire wonders what the world before would have been like if they all hadn’t taken those for granted.
She hasn’t seen Alice since their earlier exchange. Hasn’t looked for her either. While she may have wanted to seek her out, find out what exactly she’d said or done wrong - because obvious it had been something - and even though she doesn’t know really know Alice, she feels like the other woman is someone who doesn’t appreciate being chased. She wonders if the newcomer had been like that before all her time alone.
"Mikey." She calls his attention from the computer screen over to her, approaching the open doors of the van with a smile. The sandy-haired Aussie returns it with one of his own, clicking a few buttons on the keypad absently before swivelling his chair to face her. He’s handsome, in that boyishly good-looking kind of way, and at first glance you’d think he was more than capable of handling himself, but he’s just a kid. At 19, he’s mastered their computer setup, saved Claire’s life once, K-Mart’s twice, and will do just about anything for anyone. But he’s 19, barely out of his childhood, and sometimes Claire forgets that. They all do.
"Everything good, Claire?" She inclines her head to the side, resting her hand on her hips and raising both eyebrows.
"Was coming over here to ask you that, camera boy." He glances at the monitor, then back at her.
"All’s quiet on my end. Carlos said he was going to do a perimeter sweep though, check things out." Claire lifts a hand to run her fingers through her hair.
"He say when?" Mikey shrugs, checking his watch.
"I spoke to him about an hour ago, he said he was stopping to eat first." Claire raises her arm to look at the watch strapped to her wrist, stepping closer to the light of the van to read the time. She lifts her gaze to him and grins, a mischievous glint in her eyes he doesn’t see all that often but knows well enough to expect some form of trouble - mostly harmless - when it makes an appearance.
"If you see him before I do," she starts, pointing a finger at him. "Don’t let him take the quad. Tell him to come find me first." He furrows his brow but nods, knowing better than to expect an answer if he were to ask her why.
"Will do." He acquiesces, watching her turn to leave.
"You’re a star, Mikey." She calls over her shoulder and jogs away, making for the main entrance of the partially sand-covered motel. She peaks around the doorframe, eyes scanning the candle-lit darkness for any sign of Carlos. He’s absent, but she spends a few minutes talking with the few people who have chosen to set up beds just inside the door. Jennifer, Mark and seven-year-old Daniel. The man and woman had been neighbours, funnily enough, and had managed to survive just the two of them for a while. It had been two years ago, so they’d told Claire, when they’d wandered into a derelict school building and found the body of a woman - not more than a few days old - and a toddling, crying little boy. They hadn’t been sure what had killed her; she hadn’t been bitten and neither had he.
"Things good, boss?" Mark’s a nice guy. Tall, bearded and blue-eyed; and a heart as big as the sun. Claire nods and makes small talk for a few minutes, asks if they’ve seen Carlos before moving on. She checks a couple of the vehicles and is about the head back to Mikey when she spots Carlos leaning against the side of one of the gas tanks, facing a shadowy figure. Claire knows it’s Alice. Even though it’s too dark to see, she knows, and she makes her way over to them. He spots her first, or so it would seem, and whatever conversation they were having stalls. It raises the hair on the back of her neck.
"Evening, Claire." He greets her with his easy smile and she returns it with a slightly strained one of her own. She feels uncomfortable and isn’t entirely sure why, but it bothers her that Alice hasn’t acknowledged her yet. The abrupt ending of their earlier conversation left her feeling strange and cold.
"I’ve been looking all over for you." She’s says with a forced lightness to her voice, unconsciously folding her arms across her chest and shifting her stance to one that emanates leadership. "You do the night patrol yet?" He raises an inquisitive eyebrow at her, smiling wide enough to show teeth as though he knows what’s coming.
"Not yet, I was just about to when Alice caught up with me." At the sound of her name, Alice finally does turn. Dirty blonde hair, free of the scarf she’d been using to shield her head from the sun, hangs messily just above her shoulders and sways slightly with the motion of her head. Blue-green eyes that are somehow still bright in the dim light meet Claire’s and the redhead feels hers legs lock at the knees. Alice’s gaze seems to go right through her and it gives her the impression that the near-stranger is picking through her mind, collecting any useful information she might need to call upon later. It’s more than unsettling and it rubs something inside the convoy leader the wrong way, almost making her bark out something she’d later regret.
"Claire." But Alice’s voice stops her; like a heavy boot squashing a spider. Claire doesn’t verbally respond, merely inclines her head in Alice’s direction and tears her eyes away, putting her attention back on Carlos.
"You mind if I take this one?" He purses his lips, dangerously close to a smirk, and considers denying the request. Just for fun. They stare at each other for a few long heartbeats, during which Claire’s expression never changes, but Carlos just gets closer and closer to that smirk. Eventually, he drops his gaze and lifts his hands in acquiescence.
"I suppose not," he raises his eyes and they twinkle at her. "Boss." Green orbs rolls in over-exaggeration and Claire blows out a breath, white teeth peaking from between smiling lips. Alice shifts in her periphery, stealing her attention for a second.
"Yeah, well. Don’t want you having all the fun." She backs away with a wry grin, rolling her eyes again when he touches the first two fingers of his right hand to his forehead in mock-salute. As soon as her back is to them, all humour drops from her features and a frown settles in. Claire doesn’t like secrets. Secrets breed lies and there isn’t a bone in her body that can feel anything other than revulsion for liars. Cowards lie, to protect themselves. There’s a very fine line between an acceptable falsehood and a lie, and it had taken Claire a great many years to figure out where it lay. Telling a child their mother died peacefully so as to avoid having to try and explain a kind of truth their few years can’t possibly allow them to understand; Claire’s heart told her that was okay. A necessary evil, if you will. Telling a child their mother is really sleeping, is a lie. Because there is a drastic difference between sleep and death, and a child won’t forgive you for giving them false hope. And since secrets so often lead to lies, and lies inexorably lead to hurt, Claire doesn’t want them near the people of her convoy. Or herself. And ever since Alice showed up, she can’t shake the feeling that secrets are being passed around right under her nose.
She knows Alice and Carlos have a history. A history that’s tied to Racoon City and therefore weirdly tied to her own. She understands Alice probably knows things about Carlos that she doesn’t know, and vice versa, she isn’t under any kind of delusion that she might be jealous - she isn’t. She doesn’t look at Carlos that way. Not anymore. It’s not even a case of her needing to know all the facts; she’s quiet happy not knowing every single detail of every person’s life previous to the end of the world as they knew it. She just likes to know what’s going on within her own camp grounds. Alice is a proverbial spanner in the works, messing up her well-oiled machine. She’s not ungrateful, she isn’t. If she were that kind of person she would have fallen at Alice’s feet and kissed them in thanks, but Claire doesn’t bow down easily. Alice’s fire show had scared the shit out of a lot of people and it was Claire’s job to handle that. To fix a situation that had become skewed. At first, it had seemed as though just getting the newcomer to move on would have been for the best. But now, a mere handful of hours and an odd conversation later, it doesn’t seem like that anymore. And the cogs of Claire’s formerly well-functioning machine are finding it harder and harder to turn with a foreign object jammed in them.
She passes Mikey’s van, shoots him a smile and a salute and he laughs, signalling with one of his own. She doesn’t pause when she reached the quad, just leans over to check the keys are still in the ignition and then swings a leg over the side.
"Mind if I join you?" She hadn’t heard her approach. Seems like she never does. And she isn’t anywhere near close to being accustomed to the voice; low and raspy and intense no matter what the woman is saying. Every time she hears it, she’s aware that somewhere in the back of her mind she starts thinking about cigarettes and how she’d give her next ten rations for just one of those sticks of gold. She can’t stop the reflexive motion of her head snapping in the direction of the voice any more than she can will herself not to breathe. It isn’t in her. Her wide eyes take in the sight of the woman before her, more visible against the lamp light spilling from the lantern set atop the back of a nearby vehicle. If she’d been asked before meeting her, she would have told you no one could look good after travelling pretty well non-stop across the country for five years, through god only knows how many hellholes and killing every infected thing they came into contact with. After being involved - the bad way, not that she thought there was really a ‘good’ way - with Umbrella. After trying to take Umbrella out and had almost gotten killed, then had somehow managed to survive. And then she would have laughed if she’d been told the person who had done this really had just been a person, just one. Just her. And she wouldn’t have believed someone could control fire and save the lives of every person in her convoy, one single human being. She wouldn’t have believed any of it. If she’d been asked before meeting Alice. Now, looking at a woman who has lived and fought under a blanket of solitude for five years, who has seen and killed more than Claire could possibly guess at, she doesn’t think she could stop believing even if she cared to try. But the Alice’s mere presence gives off shadows Claire can’t shine a light on, can’t understand. And that unsettles her.
Alice’s eyes are a darker blue in the dim light and she stares at Claire, unabashed, waiting for an answer.
"Sure." She can hear the uncertainty in the word and can only hope the other woman somehow misses it. Her eyes dart; to Alice, away, and back to her as she fingers the weathered looking bottle opener dangling from the key in the ignition. She grips it by the base and turns it, and the engine roars to life. She tilts her head, enough to glance over her shoulder and make out a slightly blurred female form standing close by. "You getting on?" She calls over the sound of the machine. Everything about Alice sets her on edge. Her penchant for silence, the things she can do, the way she looks right through everyone her eyes land on; how she seems to really see them. How even though they haven’t met before today, haven’t exchanged any vital information, it’s as though Alice has a weird unspoken knowledge of her. And the convoy leader isn’t one for falling into easy banter with strangers over dinner. It’s unusual for Claire, and entirely unwelcome. She doesn’t like feeling off her game. "Or did you want to walk?" So of course, she overcompensates with sarcasm. To Alice’s credit, she takes it in her stride and Claire knows the other woman is smirking without even looking at her. It’s as though Alice is fully aware of Claire’s problem with her - though Claire herself isn’t even one hundred percent on that - and enjoys messing with her head.
"Wouldn’t want you losing me somewhere out there." And Alice chuckles, low in her throat, and climbs onto the back of the ATV. Claire feels the muscles in her back stiffen and she grips the handlebars tighter, feeling the raised patterns printed on them through her gloves. The redhead takes breath, pulling the air deep into her lungs to steady nerves she wasn’t aware she still had. Isn’t sure why they’re even there.
"Hold on." She warns, and then pushes the throttle to make them fly forward. If Alice hadn’t been quicker, Claire is pretty sure she would have fallen off the back, but her passenger’s reflexes are too well honed for that. She feels Alice’s hands cling to her billowing shirt and is pulled back slightly with the motion, but she rights herself and speeds up. Hands settle on her hips, gripping firm enough to add a noticeable pressure but not enough to hurt. The thought pops into Claire’s mind unbidden; she wonders how many infected those hands have killed. How strong they must be to do the things Carlos has told her she’s done. She wonders what kind of effect that has on a person, all the killing. And then a cold chill sweeps over her skin when she realises she doesn’t need to wonder about that.
Their sweep around the perimeter of the camp is done in silence, neither sure if they’ll be heard over the sound of the motor and neither wanting to test it. They get sand in their eyes as they survey their passing surroundings, and when Claire turns the quad away from the camp just when Alice expects her to swing inwards, the scraggly-haired woman leans forward until her chest is flush against the redhead’s back and she’s close enough to speak into her ear.
"Where are we going?" The quad swerves a little and Claire’s head turns automatically towards the sound of the voice. Alice has to pull her head back to avoid a collision, and their gazes lock long enough for her lips to curve in a small, apologetic, almost sheepish-looking smile. She blinks in rapid succession, her eyes opening on a different facet of the woman’s face each time, and turns back towards the uneven landscape stretching out before them. She adjusts the position of the handlebars, righting them, and aims for a spot where the land rises. She wants to find out what’s lying beyond it.
"To take a look around." She calls, keeping her eyes trained on a vague point in the distance. "That okay with you?" Claire feels Alice’s grip tighten at her hips and warmth breath ghost past her ear.
"That’s fine." Claire lets out a breath, unheard over the rumble of the machine beneath her, and they press on in silence.
Author: Redlance
Fandom: Resident Evil
Rating: PG
Word Count:
Disclaimer: Nothing is mine. Except the story idea.
A/N: Giant span of time between updates. My muse is a bitch.
Summary: Claire Redfield leads her convoy across the sun-scorched land, feeling cold despite the heat. Alice enters their camp under a blanket of fire and finds a kindred spirit. Maybe warmth will find them together.
The sky is black when Claire finally moves. She’s watched the stars come out and the people finish their food then start preparing themselves for the night ahead. Some brought their stuff out of cramped vehicles and set up camp inside the cleared out rooms of the motel. It wouldn’t be much, maybe there would be a mattress or two left between the few rooms, most would be sleeping on the floor, but even just being given the opportunity to stretch out during sleep would make their smiles a little wider in the morning. It’s the little things now. Claire wonders what the world before would have been like if they all hadn’t taken those for granted.
She hasn’t seen Alice since their earlier exchange. Hasn’t looked for her either. While she may have wanted to seek her out, find out what exactly she’d said or done wrong - because obvious it had been something - and even though she doesn’t know really know Alice, she feels like the other woman is someone who doesn’t appreciate being chased. She wonders if the newcomer had been like that before all her time alone.
"Mikey." She calls his attention from the computer screen over to her, approaching the open doors of the van with a smile. The sandy-haired Aussie returns it with one of his own, clicking a few buttons on the keypad absently before swivelling his chair to face her. He’s handsome, in that boyishly good-looking kind of way, and at first glance you’d think he was more than capable of handling himself, but he’s just a kid. At 19, he’s mastered their computer setup, saved Claire’s life once, K-Mart’s twice, and will do just about anything for anyone. But he’s 19, barely out of his childhood, and sometimes Claire forgets that. They all do.
"Everything good, Claire?" She inclines her head to the side, resting her hand on her hips and raising both eyebrows.
"Was coming over here to ask you that, camera boy." He glances at the monitor, then back at her.
"All’s quiet on my end. Carlos said he was going to do a perimeter sweep though, check things out." Claire lifts a hand to run her fingers through her hair.
"He say when?" Mikey shrugs, checking his watch.
"I spoke to him about an hour ago, he said he was stopping to eat first." Claire raises her arm to look at the watch strapped to her wrist, stepping closer to the light of the van to read the time. She lifts her gaze to him and grins, a mischievous glint in her eyes he doesn’t see all that often but knows well enough to expect some form of trouble - mostly harmless - when it makes an appearance.
"If you see him before I do," she starts, pointing a finger at him. "Don’t let him take the quad. Tell him to come find me first." He furrows his brow but nods, knowing better than to expect an answer if he were to ask her why.
"Will do." He acquiesces, watching her turn to leave.
"You’re a star, Mikey." She calls over her shoulder and jogs away, making for the main entrance of the partially sand-covered motel. She peaks around the doorframe, eyes scanning the candle-lit darkness for any sign of Carlos. He’s absent, but she spends a few minutes talking with the few people who have chosen to set up beds just inside the door. Jennifer, Mark and seven-year-old Daniel. The man and woman had been neighbours, funnily enough, and had managed to survive just the two of them for a while. It had been two years ago, so they’d told Claire, when they’d wandered into a derelict school building and found the body of a woman - not more than a few days old - and a toddling, crying little boy. They hadn’t been sure what had killed her; she hadn’t been bitten and neither had he.
"Things good, boss?" Mark’s a nice guy. Tall, bearded and blue-eyed; and a heart as big as the sun. Claire nods and makes small talk for a few minutes, asks if they’ve seen Carlos before moving on. She checks a couple of the vehicles and is about the head back to Mikey when she spots Carlos leaning against the side of one of the gas tanks, facing a shadowy figure. Claire knows it’s Alice. Even though it’s too dark to see, she knows, and she makes her way over to them. He spots her first, or so it would seem, and whatever conversation they were having stalls. It raises the hair on the back of her neck.
"Evening, Claire." He greets her with his easy smile and she returns it with a slightly strained one of her own. She feels uncomfortable and isn’t entirely sure why, but it bothers her that Alice hasn’t acknowledged her yet. The abrupt ending of their earlier conversation left her feeling strange and cold.
"I’ve been looking all over for you." She’s says with a forced lightness to her voice, unconsciously folding her arms across her chest and shifting her stance to one that emanates leadership. "You do the night patrol yet?" He raises an inquisitive eyebrow at her, smiling wide enough to show teeth as though he knows what’s coming.
"Not yet, I was just about to when Alice caught up with me." At the sound of her name, Alice finally does turn. Dirty blonde hair, free of the scarf she’d been using to shield her head from the sun, hangs messily just above her shoulders and sways slightly with the motion of her head. Blue-green eyes that are somehow still bright in the dim light meet Claire’s and the redhead feels hers legs lock at the knees. Alice’s gaze seems to go right through her and it gives her the impression that the near-stranger is picking through her mind, collecting any useful information she might need to call upon later. It’s more than unsettling and it rubs something inside the convoy leader the wrong way, almost making her bark out something she’d later regret.
"Claire." But Alice’s voice stops her; like a heavy boot squashing a spider. Claire doesn’t verbally respond, merely inclines her head in Alice’s direction and tears her eyes away, putting her attention back on Carlos.
"You mind if I take this one?" He purses his lips, dangerously close to a smirk, and considers denying the request. Just for fun. They stare at each other for a few long heartbeats, during which Claire’s expression never changes, but Carlos just gets closer and closer to that smirk. Eventually, he drops his gaze and lifts his hands in acquiescence.
"I suppose not," he raises his eyes and they twinkle at her. "Boss." Green orbs rolls in over-exaggeration and Claire blows out a breath, white teeth peaking from between smiling lips. Alice shifts in her periphery, stealing her attention for a second.
"Yeah, well. Don’t want you having all the fun." She backs away with a wry grin, rolling her eyes again when he touches the first two fingers of his right hand to his forehead in mock-salute. As soon as her back is to them, all humour drops from her features and a frown settles in. Claire doesn’t like secrets. Secrets breed lies and there isn’t a bone in her body that can feel anything other than revulsion for liars. Cowards lie, to protect themselves. There’s a very fine line between an acceptable falsehood and a lie, and it had taken Claire a great many years to figure out where it lay. Telling a child their mother died peacefully so as to avoid having to try and explain a kind of truth their few years can’t possibly allow them to understand; Claire’s heart told her that was okay. A necessary evil, if you will. Telling a child their mother is really sleeping, is a lie. Because there is a drastic difference between sleep and death, and a child won’t forgive you for giving them false hope. And since secrets so often lead to lies, and lies inexorably lead to hurt, Claire doesn’t want them near the people of her convoy. Or herself. And ever since Alice showed up, she can’t shake the feeling that secrets are being passed around right under her nose.
She knows Alice and Carlos have a history. A history that’s tied to Racoon City and therefore weirdly tied to her own. She understands Alice probably knows things about Carlos that she doesn’t know, and vice versa, she isn’t under any kind of delusion that she might be jealous - she isn’t. She doesn’t look at Carlos that way. Not anymore. It’s not even a case of her needing to know all the facts; she’s quiet happy not knowing every single detail of every person’s life previous to the end of the world as they knew it. She just likes to know what’s going on within her own camp grounds. Alice is a proverbial spanner in the works, messing up her well-oiled machine. She’s not ungrateful, she isn’t. If she were that kind of person she would have fallen at Alice’s feet and kissed them in thanks, but Claire doesn’t bow down easily. Alice’s fire show had scared the shit out of a lot of people and it was Claire’s job to handle that. To fix a situation that had become skewed. At first, it had seemed as though just getting the newcomer to move on would have been for the best. But now, a mere handful of hours and an odd conversation later, it doesn’t seem like that anymore. And the cogs of Claire’s formerly well-functioning machine are finding it harder and harder to turn with a foreign object jammed in them.
She passes Mikey’s van, shoots him a smile and a salute and he laughs, signalling with one of his own. She doesn’t pause when she reached the quad, just leans over to check the keys are still in the ignition and then swings a leg over the side.
"Mind if I join you?" She hadn’t heard her approach. Seems like she never does. And she isn’t anywhere near close to being accustomed to the voice; low and raspy and intense no matter what the woman is saying. Every time she hears it, she’s aware that somewhere in the back of her mind she starts thinking about cigarettes and how she’d give her next ten rations for just one of those sticks of gold. She can’t stop the reflexive motion of her head snapping in the direction of the voice any more than she can will herself not to breathe. It isn’t in her. Her wide eyes take in the sight of the woman before her, more visible against the lamp light spilling from the lantern set atop the back of a nearby vehicle. If she’d been asked before meeting her, she would have told you no one could look good after travelling pretty well non-stop across the country for five years, through god only knows how many hellholes and killing every infected thing they came into contact with. After being involved - the bad way, not that she thought there was really a ‘good’ way - with Umbrella. After trying to take Umbrella out and had almost gotten killed, then had somehow managed to survive. And then she would have laughed if she’d been told the person who had done this really had just been a person, just one. Just her. And she wouldn’t have believed someone could control fire and save the lives of every person in her convoy, one single human being. She wouldn’t have believed any of it. If she’d been asked before meeting Alice. Now, looking at a woman who has lived and fought under a blanket of solitude for five years, who has seen and killed more than Claire could possibly guess at, she doesn’t think she could stop believing even if she cared to try. But the Alice’s mere presence gives off shadows Claire can’t shine a light on, can’t understand. And that unsettles her.
Alice’s eyes are a darker blue in the dim light and she stares at Claire, unabashed, waiting for an answer.
"Sure." She can hear the uncertainty in the word and can only hope the other woman somehow misses it. Her eyes dart; to Alice, away, and back to her as she fingers the weathered looking bottle opener dangling from the key in the ignition. She grips it by the base and turns it, and the engine roars to life. She tilts her head, enough to glance over her shoulder and make out a slightly blurred female form standing close by. "You getting on?" She calls over the sound of the machine. Everything about Alice sets her on edge. Her penchant for silence, the things she can do, the way she looks right through everyone her eyes land on; how she seems to really see them. How even though they haven’t met before today, haven’t exchanged any vital information, it’s as though Alice has a weird unspoken knowledge of her. And the convoy leader isn’t one for falling into easy banter with strangers over dinner. It’s unusual for Claire, and entirely unwelcome. She doesn’t like feeling off her game. "Or did you want to walk?" So of course, she overcompensates with sarcasm. To Alice’s credit, she takes it in her stride and Claire knows the other woman is smirking without even looking at her. It’s as though Alice is fully aware of Claire’s problem with her - though Claire herself isn’t even one hundred percent on that - and enjoys messing with her head.
"Wouldn’t want you losing me somewhere out there." And Alice chuckles, low in her throat, and climbs onto the back of the ATV. Claire feels the muscles in her back stiffen and she grips the handlebars tighter, feeling the raised patterns printed on them through her gloves. The redhead takes breath, pulling the air deep into her lungs to steady nerves she wasn’t aware she still had. Isn’t sure why they’re even there.
"Hold on." She warns, and then pushes the throttle to make them fly forward. If Alice hadn’t been quicker, Claire is pretty sure she would have fallen off the back, but her passenger’s reflexes are too well honed for that. She feels Alice’s hands cling to her billowing shirt and is pulled back slightly with the motion, but she rights herself and speeds up. Hands settle on her hips, gripping firm enough to add a noticeable pressure but not enough to hurt. The thought pops into Claire’s mind unbidden; she wonders how many infected those hands have killed. How strong they must be to do the things Carlos has told her she’s done. She wonders what kind of effect that has on a person, all the killing. And then a cold chill sweeps over her skin when she realises she doesn’t need to wonder about that.
Their sweep around the perimeter of the camp is done in silence, neither sure if they’ll be heard over the sound of the motor and neither wanting to test it. They get sand in their eyes as they survey their passing surroundings, and when Claire turns the quad away from the camp just when Alice expects her to swing inwards, the scraggly-haired woman leans forward until her chest is flush against the redhead’s back and she’s close enough to speak into her ear.
"Where are we going?" The quad swerves a little and Claire’s head turns automatically towards the sound of the voice. Alice has to pull her head back to avoid a collision, and their gazes lock long enough for her lips to curve in a small, apologetic, almost sheepish-looking smile. She blinks in rapid succession, her eyes opening on a different facet of the woman’s face each time, and turns back towards the uneven landscape stretching out before them. She adjusts the position of the handlebars, righting them, and aims for a spot where the land rises. She wants to find out what’s lying beyond it.
"To take a look around." She calls, keeping her eyes trained on a vague point in the distance. "That okay with you?" Claire feels Alice’s grip tighten at her hips and warmth breath ghost past her ear.
"That’s fine." Claire lets out a breath, unheard over the rumble of the machine beneath her, and they press on in silence.