Plate 39

[† Emotional Outlet]

Part Four

“What?” he snapped, glaring at her.

She lifted an eyebrow at him. “You were about to make a tragic misstep,” she replied softly, the corner of her mouth rising. He wanted to smash the condescending look off her face, but stayed his anger.

A scowl still on his face, he looked behind him, bringing his gaze to the ground. The earth beneath him stopped abruptly less than two feet away from where he stood. He turned and took a step closer to see where and how far down it led—the distant view of a lake, several jagged rocks and stones breaking its otherwise flat surface, offered him little comfort. Tristan’s expression softened, but he was, at that moment, unwilling to look at Red and give her the satisfaction of being right.

“We need to keep moving. Once we get to the tunnel, we should be in the clear.” Red began walking, but paused when he placed a hand on her shoulder. “You don’t have to thank me,” she said, not turning around. “If I wanted you dead, I would do it myself. I don’t need chance to do it for me.”

Tristan laughed. “I suppose so. Either way, I still feel a little obligated to at least thank you for not pushing me off the edge.” He let go of her shoulder and she pressed on without a response.

The path led them downhill into the woods, where the canopy offered them relief from the sunlight. Between the shade and the decreased threat of plummeting to an unforgiving earth, Tristan felt relief wash over him and ease his breathing more than he would care to admit. Mushrooms he’d never seen in books or on shelves grew in multicoloured spirals and circles throughout the ground; some were an almost terrifying size, nigh large enough for him to lounge upon were it stable enough. Red mentioned to him, when she saw how intently he stared at the fungi, there were larger and stranger yet to be seen.

The journey was spent mostly in silence, punctuated only by bird calls and the rare screech of an animal Red attempted to convince him was not a rueka. Tristan concentrated on trying to remember where she was leading him—the lack of distinctive landmarks and the overwhelming feeling he was going in circles prevented him from putting too much faith in being able to find his way back alone. He tried to avoid staring at the decidedly more pleasant curves and valleys of Red’s body and put his focus on the alien landscape ahead of him.

“I hate to say it, but I’m a bit thirsty.”

Red looked at him, receiving nothing but a shrug in return. “There’s a spring not too far from here. You aren’t going to die in the few minutes it takes to walk there, will you? I don’t think you’ll be very happy with me if I have to drag your body through the mud.”

He gave her a wide grin. “Probably not. You’ll mess up my hair.”

She rolled her eyes, smiling. It brightened her mien, coaxing a pang of mixed emotions from Tristan. He had a feeling she felt just as threatened as he did, though he wasn’t sure if he was projecting, if it was an extension of his paranoia. That she was the one in control of the situation made him uncomfortable.

As they made their way to the spring, he wondered what the others at the camp she kept referring to were like—images of a roving band of amazons, of armed bandits, and a gaggle of half-starved refugees flooded his mind. Red seemed healthy enough to make the idea of a camp full of starving children far-fetched; unable to eliminate the other possibilities despite how unreasonable they sounded to him, they lingered in his thoughts. If her open disdain for the plates was any indication, he didn’t have high hopes for a warm welcome.

After passing through a few thorny bushes at Tristan’s insistence to take as direct a route as possible, the spring eventually came into view. It was hardly grand, though the relative quiet and isolation of the area did lend themselves to the serene atmosphere. He looked at Red, knowing he didn’t have to ask, but still wanting the confirmation.

“It’s safe to drink. Here.” She knelt at the edge, dipping her cupped hands into the water, and brought the clear water to her lips. Once she finished drinking, she stood, looking at him expectantly. “It’s nothing but water, I assure you. I’ve already told you—if I were going to kill you, I would do it myself.”

Letting out a breath, he took a knee and looked into the water. Though it wasn’t as clear as the water in the few fountains found on the plates, it was still pleasing to the eye and, once he took a few drinks, refreshing. While he quelled his anxiety about drinking untreated water, staring absently at the spring’s surface, Red lightly placed a hand on his shoulder, bringing him out of his reverie. Before he could speak, she shushed him.

“Stay still, would you?” she murmured to him. She was still standing, rendering her whisper barely audible. “We have a guest.”

[† Emotional Outlet]

Author's Notes:

This is my favourite part of this chapter for whatever reason. A friend of mine named the animal and I haven't been able to name it otherwise since then. It's grown on me.

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Part Five

“What is it?” He cringed at how loud his attempted whisper was.

If it was an error on his part, Red offered no criticism. She simply shook her head and pointed across the spring. He turned his gaze to where she was pointing. Almost as though waiting for a cue, a strange creature stepped out from behind a few bushes.

It looked roughly the same size as the rueka, though that was where the similarities ended. The animal bore a rotund body, its fleshy tail curled upon itself. What seemed to be an antenna on its forehead bore a glowing ball at its tip and its pale feathered wings were folded against its body. Tristan stared at it, feeling like something was moving around in his brain. A few moments later, it took a few steps towards him, the animal’s black eyes appearing to be trained on him. It was then Tristan realised it was wearing a bell around its neck.

“A fluttle. Pearl.” Her hand left his shoulder; he felt unprotected without it, once again cursing himself. “I hadn’t intended for you to meet her yet. She must have sensed you.”

Before he could catch himself, Tristan asked her, the sarcasm heavy in his voice, “Does she want to kill me, too?”

“You’ll find out. If you think the rueka are bad…” Red’s voice trailed off, largely unnoticed by Tristan as he struggled to push whatever was crawling around in his brain out. “She must be scanning you. Relax.”

“I’d feel better if I knew what was going on.”

“Consider it your first trial, then.” She tousled his hair, laughing quietly. The fluttle tilted its head at her laughter and took a few more steps forward until it was standing at the edge of the spring. “Don’t worry—she isn’t interested in your secrets. It’s far more basic than that. She just wants to know if she can trust you.”

“Forgive me if I don’t feel exactly comforted by that. What happens if she decides she doesn’t like me?” He looked up at Red, finding the creature’s steady gaze disconcerting. Some part of him wanted to believe if he didn’t look at it, it would have a more difficult time reading his mind, hoping the idea of eyes being the windows to the soul was not a literal statement. “Do you kill me then? Does she?”

She smiled, shaking her head. “You wouldn’t be the only one she doesn’t trust. It doesn’t mean anything to me—Pearl doesn’t trust half the people at the camp. The only danger you’ll be in is if you’re ever alone with her.” Red knelt beside him, extending a hand to the animal. “She’s done looking.”

It took him a few minutes before he was certain he could no longer feel her in his brain. He started to turn back at the fluttle, but the second he started to turn his head, Tristan found he could not move—his hands and legs were similarly paralysed. Attempts to speak or cry out were in vain, his vocal cords just as unresponsive.

Blackness fell over him, engulfing his vision and leaving him with nothing but the occasional illusory flare of light. He started to panic, wondering if Red had done something to him, if she had applied another salve without his knowledge. Perhaps the water was poison, something Red developed a resistance to over the years, unaware it would wreak so much havoc on him. Had the patrols from the plate been tracking them, taking the opportunity to tranquilise him?

A low, steady growl came from his right, interrupting his train of thought. Although he was paralysed, he swore he could feel his muscles tense in response. The noise crescendoed into an unrelenting scream in his ear, the unknown creature’s hot breath and spittle stinging his eyes. It felt as though he were listening to that scream for years, its pitch and timbre occasionally shifting to something unsettlingly familiar.

Tristan felt it approach, the noise becoming so loud he was certain his ears had begun to bleed. It seemed as though the darkness itself was the entity. While he couldn’t feel anything distinctive wrap around him, he felt his body compress itself, forcing the air out of him.

The pressure increased steadily until he could hear his ribs and arms begin to crack. He wanted desperately to close his eyes, ineffective as it was, to reclaim some amount of control over his own body. His thoughts became more discordant. Images of Red, nude, bent over the body of a rueka came to him, her face and body streaked with blood. When he tried to look closer, the rueka became his body, his face contorted in horror and pain. Then she turned to look at him, a beautiful and terrifying nightmare, trying to tear the flesh from her body as an offering to him.

What felt like worms started to crawl into his ears and into his brain, tunnelling through the tissue like dirt, pushing Red out of the way. He began to imagine he could see in his head, could see where his brain had been eaten away, the digested bits travelling down some creature’s throat and into its stomach, an acerbic miasma of acid and blood.

He prayed for it to hurry.

======

Bonus!

My renderings of the creature in question. I had a picture of the rueka, but it has been lost. The first is somewhat older than the second. Both were drawn with a mouse in MS Paint because that's the only way I know how to draw things apparently. I think I did the second one at work, haha.

[† Emotional Outlet]

Author's Notes:

I've since rearranged things in my Scrivener file to follow a more chronological path, but I can't exactly sort things in this thread to be the same way since I've broken up my sections into sections, lul. For those curious, there are three entire sections I've posted so far--The Aftermath, The Crash, and The Spring. The order I have them in my Scrivener file puts Crash first, so you're introduced to Faun and Jules first. Aftermath comes second, which is when Red and Tristan come into play. There's another section between Aftermath and Spring called The Fall, which is what I'll post now.

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The Fall: Part One

Something nearby was being dragged, pulled in the opposite direction. Faun groaned, awoken by the noise, trying to make sense of her surroundings and tangled limbs. She was sprawled beneath the seats, legs pressed against the metal wall. She was only faintly aware of them, numb as they were in such an awkward and uncomfortable position.

As confusion began to clear from her mind, the shapeless forms in front of her gained clarity and sharpness, turning to grotesque remains. A teenaged boy, his arm unnaturally held above his head, was sliding away from her, an unsightly smear left on the ground in his wake. The sound of growling cut through the quiet, bringing Faun fully into reality. Her throat tightened as she took in what she could from her vantage point.

The car smelt foul, heavy with waste and blood. Pills and containers were scattered, various medications she could recognise by sight alone. She searched desperately for her bag, for its familiar shape and fabric, nearly screaming when she saw what was rending the flesh from the boy only a few rows away.

Its face was bloody, buried deep in the corpse, large ears perked and attentive, twitching occasionally. The spindly, hairy legs bent and cracked each time the creature adjusted its position even slightly. She caught sight briefly of its tail, thick and knotted, as it moved around the body, looking for more to eat. Blood dripped from its fangs, prominent and visible outside of its mouth, a prehistoric horror in Faun's eyes. It began to walk, the tapping and clacking of its insectoid legs becoming louder as it approached her.

Faun clamped her hands over her mouth, keeping the scream inside of her from escaping. Her lungs burned as she held her breath, desperate to do all she could to avoid the attention of the animal. Steadily it went on, sniffing loudly in search of a larger meal. As the thick hairs upon the creature's legs came square into her field of vision, it suddenly stopped. Tears streamed from her eyes, spilling over her hands as the scream in her swelled not only from terror but from the sheer amount of pain she felt from holding her breath.

Just when she felt she couldn't hold it any longer, the creature turned and skittered away, something else catching its attention. She shut her eyes and removed her hands, letting herself take a slow, shaky breath. When she felt in control of herself, only then did she allow her eyes to open. A sudden crash jolted Faun, causing her to slam the top of her head against the chair in shock. Her lips curled inward, suppressing foul words, her muscles tensing against the pain. She turned her head towards the source of commotion in time to see the animal hurl itself against a door.

She watched it for a few moments, wondering what she could do. Whatever was on the other side of that door had the creature's full attention, but that didn't mean it wouldn't turn to her once she made her existence clear. Faun didn't want to take the risk of presenting herself as easier prey, instead choosing to remain on the ground, transfixed by the scene. For all the terror the animal inspired in her, she couldn't help but recognise the injuries it bore, the desperation and hunger in its movements.

And she hated it. Hated the ugliness, the filth. The sight of the dead teenager, his body defiled and eviscerated kept her from feeling more pity for the creature than she already did. Most of all, she hated the way she understood the creature, the purposes and justifications behind its behaviours. It didn't seem much different to her than the average person—or herself.

The animal apparently broke its way through the door, its entrance marked by the slamming of the door against the wall, a scream erupting shortly after.

Edited August 13, 2012 by Emotional Outlet

[† Emotional Outlet]

Part Two

"Tristan?" she whispered, remembering he had left for the bathroom before the crash. Faun pushed away from the wall towards the aisle, smearing blood onto her dress and leggings as she pulled herself up, holding onto the backs of the seats for support. Her legs fussed at her, prickling with sensation after being bent up for so long, and threatened to collapse beneath her.

Getting involved with the altercation seemed out of the question—she could barely stand, let alone move quickly enough to act. Instead she pushed open a window, peering out of it before climbing out and landing roughly on her feet. With a hand against the car, she looked around, in awe of what she saw. The rest of train, largely undamaged, extended some distance away, the luggage cars apparently twisted onto their sides.

Faun looked skyward, watching the track flicker for a few moments before moving on. She slid a few times during her descent, cursing under her breath upon scraping her shin against a rock, tearing the fabric of her leggings in the process.

Now at the edge of the destruction, standing beneath the shade of the trees spared crushing, Faun fell to her knees, pressing her hands to her face in an attempt to regain control of herself. Everything was alien to her—the feel of the grass on her exposed shin, the intermingling smells of the trees and the plants, the thickness and humidity of the air. It was almost as if she could feel the air travel through her body, feel it fill her lungs fuller than it did on the plate—how invigorating and real it felt terrified her.

Her hands slid from her face to the sides of her head, cradling it, and stared at the ground beneath her. She sat there for some time, her mind void of any thought.

Something nudged her elbow, bringing her out of her trance. She turned to look and was met with another strange animal, though this one seemed less terrifying than the one on the train. It was a round beast in almost every way, its plump body supported by stocky little legs, oval head tilted, large black eyes seeming to stare at her. It seemed to have been injured some time ago, bearing several scars above its eyes in addition to two long scars marking the animal's back, extending towards its curled tail.

"You're not so bad," she murmured, placing a hand on its head. The animal pulled away from her touch initially, but relaxed when she began speaking to it, apparently finding her words calming.

"What am I supposed to do? Wait here until someone finds me?" Faun looked at the creature at her side and sighed. "I don't want to die getting back into that train. Especially not if there are more of those things out there. I can't leave him for dead, can I? At least not without knowing if that was him… Maybe it's best not to know?"

Almost as if in response, the creature began to walk away, deeper into the woods. Faun, not wanting to be left alone and somewhat curious where it was going, got up and followed it, keeping some distance between the two of them. She glanced back at the train, then at the terrain beyond it. The mountain stood tall, a landmark she caught sight of a few times while on the train much higher above the ground than she was now. Smaller hills, grassy and gently sloping, also marked the horizon.

Atop one of those hills stood two people, a man and a woman, looking out into the distance, their backs turned to her. He started walking forward, rather absently, when the woman grabbed him, yanking him backwards. They shared a brief exchange before heading downhill, disappearing from Faun's sight.

"Tristan," she said softly. "You're alive." She started towards them when something caught her arm.

Edited August 13, 2012 by Emotional Outlet

[† Emotional Outlet]

Part Three

"You'll not be following them." Faun tensed at the voice, looking over her shoulder to see what it was. It looked like a young woman, save for the lolling of her head and the way her skin appeared to be crinkled, like paper. Empty sockets stood out starkly against the woman's pallour. Blood soaked her clothing and skin, as if pressed out from her before reinflating the body.

"I—I see," Faun replied, trying to keep the fear from her voice. "Then what…" She cleared her throat, trying to steady her trembling body. "What do you suggest I will be doing instead?"

"Follow me."

"Suppose I don't?"

The woman—although Faun wasn't entirely sure she should even consider what stood by her a woman, much less a living being—offered no reply, but placed a finger, broken bones shifting beneath the skin, on Faun's temple, the other fingers curling by her face, taking a few strands of her short hair into its grasp.

Images flooded into her mind, vivid and bright, almost like they were happening that very moment. An aircraft—similar to one she thought she had seen once in a hangar when passing by the University, before the doors slid shut on it—hung in the air above the train, spraying fire upon the scene. The bodies inside were engulfed in the blaze and for a single terrifying moment, she believed they were all still alive. They were alive and they knew she had left them to fend for themselves. Their combined hatred smothered her worse than the smoke, desperate fingers digging into her and bringing her closer to the flames.

Her mind suddenly cleared and she gasped, hyperventalating and clutching at her chest. The woman next to her dropped her arm to her side, head still hanging loosely, hair waving slightly at the beckoning of the wind.

"Is that going to happen if I stay?"

"It will happen whether you stay or go."

"But all those people… They can't be alive," Faun protested, casting a brief glance at the train, chills crawling up her spine. "They're dead. I saw them. I saw something eating them."

"Your imagination runs wild with fear and ignorance. Follow me."

The woman left her little choice, grabbing Faun's arm and pulling her along. The strength in that apparently broken body surprised her as she stumbled briefly before falling into step with the woman. Faun chewed her lip for a moment before speaking. "Will you let go of me? I won't run."

There was a pause, silence hanging between the two of them like the woman were thinking about it, before releasing her grip on Faun's arm. They continued through the woods for some time, Faun keeping quiet when she found the woman wouldn't answer any of her questions. It was as though she used her entire allowance of words in the first few moments of their meeting. Aside from her initial annoyance, Faun found she preferred the silence, deep into her thoughts as it left her. She couldn't stop thinking about Tristan and the woman he was with.

Nor could she stop thinking about Jules, who had been on an earlier train. She considered the possibility of the same thing happening to him and hoped it hadn't—his train was supposed to arrive before hers even left. A delay in the schedule seemed unthinkable.

She chuckled at herself. Here she was, led by some pale imitation of a human being—something that would otherwise have only appeared in her nightmares—through woods she once learnt were poison, and she was worrying about the train company's reputation of maintaining a strict schedule. Years of beliefs about the surface were being dashed away, relabelled as lies and falsehoods, and she couldn't bring herself to think about that, only what she found comfortable and familiar. As though she would be able to pretend none of it was happening, that she simply fell asleep on the train and Jules's fretting about the attacks simply influenced her dreams.

It was a thought quickly banished when she found herself suddenly stopped, the woman beside her holding out an arm to keep her from advancing.

[† Emotional Outlet]

Part Four

"Where are we?" she asked, unable to see anything worth stopping for. They were deep into the woods, rare spots of sunlight trickling through the thick foliage above. Strange little mushrooms and plants accented the ground, though they hadn't crossed paths with any other creatures aside from the birds in the trees and the occasional flying insect or two. "We've been walking for miles, haven't we?"

The woman suddenly turned, pulling Faun by the arm. They came to the edge of the trees, a clearing revealed before them. In the distance, Faun could see smoke, thick and black, billowing up into the sky, a small aircraft flying away back towards the plate.

"It happened, then." She looked at the woman, uncertain of what she was expecting. Perhaps that it were a lie or only a possibility shown to her, not a reality. "They burnt it away. Did they even look inside?"

"Looking too much would answer questions they'd rather remain unanswered. They are like you, your people." The woman shifted uneasily on her feet, her head and arms swaying loosely. "This body is almost finished." Faun thought it was finished long ago, but held her tongue. "You have questions."

Uncertain whether it was an invitation, she waited, watching the woman slump to her knees. "Puppetry," the woman said, lifting her head towards Faun for the first time. "Difficult in proximity, more difficult in distance. Time is short."

She looked at the woman's face, the vacant sockets, the thin lips that seemed to want to move with the words but failed to. "Where are you?"

"You'll not see it now. Too many strangers yet before you."

"Tristan, you mean. Where is he?"

"He is safe."

"That doesn't answer my question," she replied, exasperated. "But thank you, I suppose, for letting me know. What am I supposed to do? How can I find him?"

The woman fell backwards, her empty gaze facing the sky, dimming with the setting sun. "The night is not on your side. You'll not find him if you are dead."

"You're falling apart." Faun wasn't sure if she was more relieved the puppet was falling apart or fearful that she was about to be left very much alone, bloody and unsettling companion though she was.

"The connection is weakening. More than it already was."

"Were you… were you trying to help me?"

"You are not of us. I have done my duty."

Faun let out a sharp breath. "That's not an answer. Are you incapable of giving me answers? Is this some sort of joke meant to waste my time?" When no reply came, she found herself beginning to cry. Now led miles away from the train, no idea where she was or where to begin looking for Tristan, she felt utterly alone. Some small part of her hoped the friendly creature from earlier would return, perhaps lead her to safety.

Realising how absurd that sounded even in the privacy of her mind, she wondered if there would be patrols from the plate, if they would help her if she were to be found. She wondered if the crash would be reported, a bland update pushed to everyone's tablets, if an accusing finger would be crooked at the same people said to have been behind previous attacks. She wondered if anyone would notice she was missing, if everyone would write her off as dead—if Jules would write her off as dead. It seemed very possible he would look for her, if all his talk about the rebels was true, if he believed a single word he was telling her before they parted.

[† Emotional Outlet]

Part Five

Suddenly thirsty, she began to walk somewhat aimlessly, preferring to stay out of the forest for as long as possible. The clearing continued for some time before the slope became too steep for her to continue forward. Faun looked below her, catching sight of a small pond. The idea of drinking still water worried her, but she suspected it was better than dying of thirst.

While it was quite far down, it didn't seem impossible, despite her current outfit. Even if she fell, Faun didn't think it was nearly high enough to kill her. Despite her attempts at calming herself, she couldn't banish the tingling of her hands and feet as she climbed, making certain her footholds were solid and her grip on the rocks tight before continuing downward. Her palms were sweaty, making it difficult to maintain her grasp on rocks as firmly as she would like. Once, she took the chance to quickly swipe one hand then the other on her dress, but found doing so only made her more terrified and simply suffered the moisture.

Several feet from the ground she had a small mishap, losing her grip on the rock as she felt about with her foot for a new hold, and fell the rest of the way down, landing painfully on the ground with a thud. Faun sighed, rolling over onto her back, looking up at where she had come from. It might as well have been miles away as far as she was concerned. Between her inauspicious footwear and clothing, if it wasn't for her fear of being left completely unprotected, she would have been driven to strip everything away for all the good it had done her so far. Even removing her shoes was out of the question—stepping barefoot on any of the strange plants she came across was not an event she looked forward to.

Groaning, she pushed herself up, walking towards the pond. She took a knee, staring at unbroken surface for a moment before dipping her hand into it. The water seemed clear enough and somewhat cool, though any microscopic terrors would have to remain unknown. Faun hoped the worst to happen to her after drinking would be mild gastric distress and not death. After a few sips pushed back her thirst, she got up and decided to walk around the pond a few times before moving on. It was less for the deliberation of a plan and more to calm herself, to find her bearings.

More woods stood in one direction while the horizon appeared clear in the other, broken only by hills and distant trees. It seemed no matter where she went, she would end up back in the forest. She imagined all the people complaining about the lack of plants would find their desires sated on the surface, never more than a few feet from the nearest tree, not to mention the endless expanse of grass, a luxury rarely justified on the plate. To be surrounded by so much raw nature felt unnatural, as though the perfunctory attempts made on the plates to placate people's desire for some sort of nature in their lives through fountains and plastic plants weren't artifical and unnatural. They weren't afforded animals, not that they would likely thrive, much less survive, in the controlled environment of the plates.

Weighing heaviest in her mind, clear above the cacophony of other thoughts and possibilties, was the question that scared her most. It was the one that tempered her hope for any patrols to come looking for her, the one that told her it would likely be the end if she were found by any such patrols.

The air was not poison, nor did the very earth open its maw to swallow her whole when she set foot upon it. The prospect of dealing with those terrible creatures didn't seem insurmountable—they had the technology to protect themselves. The water didn't knock her dead within seconds of drinking, and the water they were drinking up on the plates had to come from somewhere. The forces they fought against in the war were supposed to have fled the planet, no longer posing a threat.

Faun couldn't find a reason why they would continue to lie about the surface being uninhabitable. A smile, desperate and miserable, crossed her face as she laughed, eventually dissolving into tears, feeling very small and insignificant.

======

Author's Notes:

That's it for a while. I only have two other entire sections written out

[† Emotional Outlet]

So, I have finished the first draft of this story, have replotted it to make it more cohesive and less dumb (ahahahaha), and have begun second draft edits.

 

I'm sending out the edits to my first beta in bits and pieces because he's a mean bully and won't abide by my incessant procrastination, but for those who are curious, this is the first chapter (correlates to "The Crash" in this thread). On this edit, I'm basically paring everything down and rewriting bits (everything except dialogue) to comply with E-Prime because I hate myself. Where the first draft stood at 3261 words for the first chapter, this edit is about half at 1567. I know it is really beige, that's just how I write.

 

Later drafts may bolster my word count again. Maybe.

 

Light poured into the spartan room from the single slatted window, warming Faun’s shoulders. A steady beeping filled her ears as her eyes dragged open, sleepiness pulling them back shut as she sat up, the covers dropping to her waist. She reached for her tablet and silenced the alarm, squinting at the time. An hour before her train’s departure.

 

Faun looked over her shoulder at her bedmate, apparently still sleeping with his back to her. She shook his shoulder, waiting a few moments for him to stir before sliding her legs over the edge of the bed, intermittent shadows sliding over her bare skin.

 

“Get up,” she said. Faun collected the clothing from the floor, dropping them in a small pile at the end of the bed. She dressed, slipping on her leggings and dress from last night, tugging at the wrinkled fabric. “Jules, get up.”

 

He yawned loudly and tossed the sheets aside as he got up, sending the remaining clothing tumbling to the ground. “I didn’t mean all that. I was riled up and not thinking, you know.” His words slurred into another yawn, stifled with the back of his hand.

 

“You ought to dress for work.” She knelt and picked up the dropped items, throwing them in his direction. “My train will be leaving soon.”

 

“I told you he—”

 

“It was pleasant to see you again, Julian.” Her throat tightened as she met his eyes, heat rising through her cheeks. “I really must be going.” Faun took her satchel from the nightstand, shoving the tablet inside. She nudged her shoes upright, knocking them over several times before she was able to put them on properly. With a deep breath, she looked at Jules, lifting her chin. “Forgive a girl her folly. I didn’t realise how foolish I was being.”

 

Jules reached for her, stumbling over the clothing on the floor, and grabbed her arm. “Listen to me—” She pulled away, suddenly concerned with the length of the strap on her bag as she walked out of the room.

 

Faun slammed the apartment door behind her, taking long, deliberate strides down the hallway towards the elevators. She expected the door to fly open at any moment, Jules running after her half-dressed as he called her name. When the door shut and the elevator began its descent, she rubbed at her eyes, moisture sliding down her wrists.

 

Her footsteps echoed as she crossed the lobby, interrupted by the chirping of her tablet. Faun took a seat at one of the metal benches, glancing through the windows at the streams of people passing by before pulling out the noisy device.

 

With a swipe of the fingerprint scanner, the screen lit up and a security warning flashed by, hidden by another window containing the day’s updates. Faun tapped through the text, reading only the first few lines of each page. Her gaze flicked constantly to the time in the corner.

 

She was about to shut off the tablet when another notice displayed, a chirrup accompanying its arrival. Faun rapped a finger at the edge of the device, slowing in pace as she read, eventually coming to a full stop. A glitch in the tracks caused them to fade out long enough to derail a train, allowing it to plummet to the surface. Patrols reported no survivors.

 

Her finger dragged across the screen as she moved to switch off the tablet, her lips tight as she put it away and stood, pulling down the fabric of her dress. Hand curled around the strap of her satchel, nails digging into her palm, she left the building and found a place in the flow of pedestrians.

 

Faun looked up towards the dome and watched the seconds click by on the central clock before hastening, slipping through gaps in traffic. She arrived at a small store and picked up several packets of food and batteries. Her foot tapped at the tiled floor as the cashier scanned her items. Her satchel hung open on her shoulder, her nails pulling at the edge of her tablet.

 

“Ma’am?”

 

The cashier’s hand came into view, startling her. Faun’s fingers stopped, flattening against the device. He tilted a scanner towards her, an eyebrow lifted. “Your payment?”

 

She sighed and held her wrist beneath the scanner. It beeped and she collected her items, sorting them within her bag. The cashier spoke as she left, his voice faint as she left, her eyes drawn to the hologram. Only fifteen minutes until the top of the hour.

 

Her pace was matched by the others as she walked, turning corners and slipping between buildings, her chest tightening. The station eventually came into view and she let out a heavy sigh, slowing her pace. A crowd had already formed, heads bowed over tablets and breakfast, the benches filled and bins filled with baggage. Faun checked in at the terminal, twisting her hand under the scanner until it registered.

 

Conversations merged together as she waited, focused on the shining of the tracks, bright and solid. Faintly, she could hear the crackle of an announcement, the rumble of the approaching train. A hand pulled her back from the edge of the platform as the train pulled up, her feet tangling beneath her.

 

“Excuse me…” Faun let out a breath through her nose as she found her balance, eyes still low.

 

“Little close there.”

 

“It wasn’t—” She looked up and her hands tightened at her sides. “Tristan,” she said, the clatter of the luggage bins overpowering her voice. He motioned for her to board the train, a faint smile on his lips.

 

Faun sank into a seat and removed the satchel from her shoulder, wrapping the strap around it before setting it on her lap.

 

Tristan slid his bag beneath the seat and sat beside her, his knee brushing against hers as he shifted in his seat to face her. “Still on the hunt?”

 

She crossed her legs away from him, fingers plying at the seams of her bag. “I have yet to receive notice about my relocation.”

 

“Well, once you have the job…”

 

“One I cannot attain without the proper paperwork.”

 

A final announcement came over the system and the doors slid shut, allowing the train to move forward. Faun closed her eyes, sagging further into her seat as she rested her forehead against the cool glass of her window.

“Rough morning?”

 

“There are benefits.” She felt a hand at her knee, mixed emotions riled at the behest of a single gesture. Faun sat up, moving her leg away in the process. “Dare I ask for what purpose you make this trip?”

 

He looked away, taking the fabric of his tie between his fingers. “I had hoped to meet with a friend.” Tristan turned his attention back to her, the corner of his mouth lifting. “He told you, didn’t he?”

 

Faun rolled her eyes and looked out the window. The train picked up speed as it passed through the checkpoints. Visible through the tunnel, the terrain below blurred together, broad verdant stroke interrupted by rocky gashes.

 

“Jules was never the best at, ah… I didn’t mean for you to find out that way.”

 

“Do enlighten me.”

 

“It was never meant to be a…”

 

She waited, still watching the rush of the landscape beneath, a headache creeping through. The conversations of other passengers, the shuffling and clicking and scraping of their movements through the car all grated at her.

 

“I don’t blame you if you’re angry at me.”

 

“Your approval is most appreciated.”

 

“Faun.” She found it familiar the way he said her name, pleading, wheedling. Wispy memories of the things that would follow rose, bringing with it a twinge of guilt.

 

She looked at him and put forth a smile, knowing it didn’t reach her eyes. “What would you have me say? I only regret finding myself ensnared by your game.” She met his mismatched eyes, holding her gaze steady.

 

Tristan leant forward and lowered his voice. “It’s not like that. I just wanted to—”

 

“You wanted to… what?” She crossed her arms, holding her satchel close to her. “What had you hoped to achieve?”

 

He stood, steadying himself with an arm on the back of his seat. “Excuse me.” He left, his bag still at the floor.

 

Faun watched him for a moment, saw the sagging of his shoulders, the dragging of his feet, and settled back into her seat. She cupped her face in her hands, letting out a shaky breath as heat pricked at her eyes.

 

Hands back at her lap, she opened her satchel and removed one of the food packets, turning it several times before opening it.

 

As she tore the packaging, the train shuddered, followed by an eruption of screaming and alarms from the front. The panic reached Faun’s car as it twisted, the floor at a severe angle. The train lurched, throwing people off balance as they scrambled, shouting over each other, drowning the blare of the sirens.

 

Heart racing, Faun dropped to the floor and crawled beneath her seat, clutching the support beam. Someone fell in the aisle, their foot scraping against her hand. She hissed, tightening her grip against the pain.

 

Faun’s hands slipped from the bar as the train gave another jolt. She slid, striking her head against a seat. The cacophony around her seemed to quiet as her vision faded to black.

[† Anras Rune]

Oh dear. Now I'm confused again. Erm. I've been following this from the beginning, and then I tried to follow the re edit/rehash mix around that you did. Now I don't know what you've done... ah!!

 

Tis good though, I still enjoy it, but I suppose I'll have to wait to see where this new edit goes to understand whats happened...lol

[† Emotional Outlet]

There's a bit of redacting and rearranging I've done, haha.

 

For the first chapter (which was technically the second chapter in the first draft) what I've done in addition to paring down words is condense conflict and omit information characters would take for granted. I didn't need a bunch of words describing how people get dressed or how their society functioned. They would already know that.

 

I also moved the chapter ahead in the story because it makes more chronological sense. I edited the dialogue to make it less "on the nose" and information rich, as well as try to get a better feel for their voices. (This is really hard for me, so I'm going to be rewriting their dialogue a lot as I figure it out.) I also tried to maintain POV--I did a lot of head hopping and it's something I have to edit for in almost every chapter. This chapter should read more clearly from Faun's POV.

 

Character-wise, the first draft of the chapter didn't have a lot of conflict in the start with her waking up with Jules, so it didn't make sense why anyone should care about their relationship or why he would be important. Not to mention they were just randomly dumping information like it was no big deal. For her interactions with Tristan, it should be a little clearer what Faun's conflict with him is (maybe??), and then of course I cut out a lot of random exposition.

 

But yeah, basically all that stuff I'm trying to keep in mind while doing my edits. Super fun, haha. Since I am in editing mode, I'm less attached to the writing aspect, but I'll probably have to shift gears again once I finish trimming the fat on the first go around (my novel is going to be even more aenemic than it already is). I know there's almost an entire chapter I've got to rethink or omit entirely because nothing interesting happens except in the last few paragraphs.

 

What happened on the first draft is I realised I was running somewhere but didn't have an antagonist, so at the last minute I had to repurpose characters. A lot of information ended up that way, where I realised I needed something or I learnt something about a character and I threw it into the text regardless, but there was no hint of this information in earlier chapters. In this edit, I want to make the flow of information smoother and less out of the blue, haha.

[† Emotional Outlet]

A random snippet of me talking about editing.

 

[21:21] AG: Ahahaha

[21:21] AG: Sixth chapter

[21:21] AG: I am about to

[21:21] AG: Cut away thousands of words

[21:21] AG: Literally

[...]

[00:31] AG: The Jules chapters are hiliarious

[00:31] AG: Because I have to title them as I edit

[00:31] AG: And I just pick random shit

[00:31] AG: Also I wrote all of this like right now

[00:32] AG: Because I cut out everything

[00:32] AG: I spent like 2k describing them going out to lunch

[00:32] AG: And bemoaning the lack of sandwiches

[00:32] AG: Completely unnecessary

[00:32] AG: This should be more dramatic and hilarious

[00:32] AG: As I ruin Jules's shit

[00:34] AG: I'm reaching a point where I have to do a lot of retconning and not just clip away everything that isn't the endless suffering of my characters

[...]

[04:26] AT: progress

 

Fun fact: as I wrote Faun's later chapters, I did everything in my power to ruin her life without killing her.

 

It's basically like that entire time.

 

Anyway, here's chapter two. Corresponds with "The Aftermath" in this thread. Still slightly aenemic compared to the first draft. Future drafts will involve a lot more sentence rebuilding as I attempt to stop using the exact same structure over and over again.

 

Red circled the train, searching for signs of life. Clicking noises came from the engine, lights in the cars dimming as the last of the power faded away. It seemed to suffer little damage to its exterior, more than could be said for its surroundings. Twisted branches dangled from downed tree creaking against the metal chassis. Nearby flocks of birds cried out as they flew from the disturbance, filling the sky. She watched the track crackle and distort, following its path back to the plate before lowering her gaze.

 

A shoe propped against the train caught her eye. She drew near and felt a wave of nausea well inside of her. The shoe stood with a foot still inside, blood soaking the ground beneath. Red closed her eyes, a hand against the train to steady herself and lips curled inward.

 

After she settled her stomach, she searched for an entrance, trying to force each of them open before one finally gave way. Red heard precious little after the crash beyond that of birds and leaves rustling. What lay inside sucked the air from her throat.

 

People in their seats sat with their faces smashed against the windows, blood dripping down the glass. Bodies strewn about the aisle took unnatural angles, limbs twisted around seats, around themselves, around others. She noticed someone had teeth, slick with spittle, embedded in the back of his head. Near him lay another man with his bloody mouth agape. Scattered pills littered the floor, crunching beneath Red’s feet as she moved through the cars, scene after similar scene of scattered bodies.

 

She stopped by the bathrooms, offering a perfunctory knock before entering. She found a woman slumped on the ground, her jaw completely destroyed. Bright red on the nearby chipped sink drew her eye, broken teeth stuck on the drain. Red looked away, a hand at her mouth.

 

Pulling open the stall door revealed a woman with her skirt hitched up to her waist and panties around her knees, her head hanging limply against her chest. She seemed to be hugging the toilet, clinging to something solid after a rough night. Red found an earring on the ground, a bit of flesh still clinging to its hook.

 

Red left the room and crossed the hallway into the men's restroom, once again knocking before entering regardless. With nothing immediately drawing her eye, she went to the stall, little faith in finding anything besides another corpse.

 

A young man sat upon the toilet, his belt undone but his pants still buttoned and zipped. He leant to the left, his face resting against the wall, but appeared uninjured. With a hand at her back pocket, she grabbed his shoulder and shook him.

 

"Are you okay? Can you hear me?"

 

When no response came, she let her hand drop from her shorts and turned to leave, letting the stall door swing shut.

 

Red had almost left the bathroom when she heard a groan come from the stall. Her heart racing as she went back, she returned, pulling open the door as carefully as her nerves would let her. He had moved away from the wall, now hunched forward and cradling his head in his hands.

 

"Are you hurt?"

 

He looked up, his expression groggy. She noticed his mismatched eyes, one blue and the other green. His dusty brown hair stuck to his forehead with sweat, curling at his eyebrows.

 

"What happened?" He stood briefly, his legs shaking violently before he sat back down, hands out against the walls to steady himself. "Where am I?" He fumbled with his belt, his brow furrowed.

 

"The track is broken." She paused, looking at him carefully. "Do you remember anything?"

 

Slowly, he shook his head, licking his lips before replying, "Just the sirens. The alarm. Screaming. Tried not to hit my head."

 

"No pain?" She looked over him for several moments. "Can you stand?" When he shook his head, rubbing his eyes, she dropped her hand.

 

"I just need a few moments." He sounded more aware and in control of his facilities. "Nothing feels broken. My headache is probably the least of my worries."

 

He put his arms back up against the walls and tried to stand, his legs shaking beneath him. Red stepped forward and steadied him, an arm around his back, catching the scent of his cologne, faint and diluted by sweat. Grunting faintly under the pressure, she led him from the stall to the bench at the door, slipping out from under his shoulder.

 

A skittering outside the door stopped her, her muscles tensing. Red pulled the knife from her pocket, nudging the door open to a narrow sliver. Through it she could see the bushy tail of a rueka poking out from between two seats, snarls muffled as it struggled to back up, spindly legs scratching at the floor.

 

Silently, she stepped back, closing the bathroom door and sliding the lock. She put the knife away, taking a seat next to the stranger.

 

"You look pale."

 

Red shook her head, absently feeling for her necklace through her sweater. "Just an animal taking its meal." She looked around the room, searching for a viable escape as she listened to the growls of the creature through the door. “Can you stand yet?”

 

"No guarantees." He scooted forward and, with a hand at the arm of the bench, stood up. After taking a few steps, he offered her a shrug. "I can walk, at least."

 

"That’s fine, but…" She trailed off, the sound of the rueka scuttling nearby putting her on edge.

 

"It should be. Besides, where—" Red got up and stood at the door, her head tilted. “What is it?”

 

She motioned for him to keep quiet. The rueka snuffled and scratched upon the metal door, whining faintly. He approached the woman and leant in towards her, his whisper harsh at her ear, "What is that out there?"

 

"Rueka," she muttered back. "Injured." She took out her knife. "It’s not going away." As though it heard, the scratching ceased and there was a brief moment of silence before the animal screeched and hurled its body at the door with surprising strength. Red jumped at the strike, letting out a heavy breath. "Are you armed?"

 

He looked apologetic. "Protocol."

 

She scowled. "Of course." Red sighed and grabbed his arm. "Are you squeamish?" He shook his head. The door shuddered behind them. "Do you trust me?" A few moments passed before he nodded, his movements mechanical.

 

Red made a quick, shallow cut across the man’s forearm. The rueka, now thrown into a frenzy, assaulted the door with more fervour, the lock rattling loudly.

 

His voice high, his eyes wild, he asked, "What are you trying to do?"

 

"Move.”

 

"The door won’t last—" Another thump at the door punctuated his point.

 

"Move." She gripped the knife tightly. "Now."

 

He had just cleared the door when Red pulled the lock, allowing the door to fly open and bang loudly against the wall. Moving with terrifying speed, the rueka slipped past Red’s grasp, latching itself upon the young man’s arm and bringing him to his knees. He panicked and assailed the creature with his free hand, his screams echoing in the train.

 

The segmented, hairy insect legs moved feverishly, scratching at the floor and his flesh. Its ragged and misshapen ears flicked at every sound, eyes narrowed to yellow slits.

 

Red moved in carefully, pausing to observe the rueka’s movements before throwing herself upon it, driving the knife into the beast. Its eyes opened wide, appearing to engulf its entire face. Blood dripped from its face, flecks of warm fluid blotching her bare legs.

 

She pulled the knife and the rueka bucked, thin whines audible over the din of the struggle. Red rained blow after blow upon the animal, the young man’s safety secondary to her efforts. Her vision tunnelled, the rueka’s wide eyes the only thing visible before her.

 

Blessedly, the animal went limp. Her breath ran ragged from her lungs, oppressive heat curling at her neck and cheeks. The knife fell from her hand, clattering loudly. Red tried to pry the rueka’s jaws apart, eventually using the knife to separate its jaw from the rest of the creature’s skull.

"There," she said. The man took his arm back, wrapping a hand about his forearm. Between his fingers she could see the twin rows of free-flowing puncture wounds.

 

"What now?" He stood and went to the sinks, twisting the handles several times. When nothing came, he hissed, slamming a fist against the hand dryers before disappearing into the stall, emerging with a roll of toilet paper.

 

Red sat silently on the ground, cleaning her knife against the mangled body of the rueka, an eye on the young man as he stormed through the small room. She folded the weapon and slid it into her back pocket. Grunting, she took hold of the animal and dragged it to the hallway.

 

“Better it try to take your arm than your throat. Let me see."

 

She approached and he held out his arm for her to inspect. "Still bleeding," he said, desperation creeping at the edge of his voice. "If we could fashion a tourniquet—"

 

"Relax." She took out her necklace, revealing a small vial and locket. They both hung on a thin, well-worn silver chain, knocking against each other with a faint tinkle. Red twisted the cap from the vial and poured a thick, clear liquid into her free hand. The empty vial pocketed, she rubbed her hands together. "What's your name?"

 

"Tristan. What—"

 

She took hold of his arm, placing her hands directly over the wounds. His eyes rolled back, his words now caught in his throat. Heat shot through her arms as she tightened her grip, the searing pain spotting her vision.

 

He tensed and fell forward, shaking violently in the process. Red let go, barely catching him in her arms. She rested his head upon her lap, a hand at his forehead and fingers curled in his hair as she steadied him against the convulsions.

[† Emotional Outlet]

And chapter three. Completely new material as far as this thread goes. His chapters are undergoing the greatest changes. He used to have two friends.

 

The Messages

 

A steady beeping pulled Jules from his slumber, the tension at his temples deepening as he awoke. He took in a deep breath, shifting in his seat and grasping for the warmth of sleep.

 

When he could not slip back into the murky depths, the rumbling of the train and murmured conversations seizing control of his attention, he sat up, reaching for the bag beneath his seat. Jules removed the offending device and swiped his finger, dismissing the security and update notices. A small envelope icon flashed in the corner, waiting to be acknowledged. He glanced at the woman sitting beside him, ostensibly busy with her laptop as well.

 

His eyes ran over her, straying and searching.

 

Thick curly hair, full lips, a dark and even complexion. Certainly a change from the more pallid Faun, her dark hair and eyes standing in stark contrast to her flesh rather than form any sort of harmony. Jules gave her a friendly smile when she turned from her device, meeting his gaze.

 

“Do you mind closing the shade?”

 

She nodded and pulled the handle. “Late night?”

 

“Something like that,” he replied, chuckling. He looked down at his tablet, the icon still flashing. At least it had ceased its cries.

 

The woman turned off her own device, a finger plucking at its edges as the scramble of words faded from its screen. “Train rides always tire me so.”

 

“Don’t let me stop you.”

 

The conversation drifted away. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small cloth, setting himself to the process of cleaning his tablet. The fingerprints and smears smudged before giving, leaving behind little but bits of dust.

 

No longer able to postpone it, Jules pulled open the message and read, his upper lip twitching slightly as he did so.

 

*//SUBJECT PERISHED

 

He took in a deep breath, holding it until his lungs burnt, and let it out slowly. He read it again, lingering on the second word. Motions somewhat rigid, he closed out the window and opened the daily updates, flicking through them quickly.

 

A series of tones played on the speakers followed by the announcement the train would be arriving at its destination in a half hour. Thankful, he slipped the tablet into his bag and leant back into his seat, crossing his arms across his chest as he watched the vague blur of scenery a few windows ahead.

 

 

 

“Always something relaxing about catching your forty on a train.”

 

“I don’t remember falling asleep.” Jules rubbed at his eyes, loosening the crust of sleep.

 

She let out a breathy laugh, brief and fleeting. “No one ever does. It would be fascinating if you could.”

 

“I can think of a few things more fascinating.” He leant forward, grabbing his bag and setting it on his lap. Jules took a moment to check his tablet inside of it. Another message had come for him while he slept.

 

A voice came over the speakers, announcing their arrival at 37. Jules stood, adjusting the bag’s strap on his shoulder. Through the windows he saw the crowd outside waiting to board, more than a handful focussed on their tablets. The doors slid open silently and people wove together, offering the occasional greeting as their paths intersected.

 

“It’s been a pleasure.” Jules waved to the woman and turned. He fell into step with the crowd, slipping ahead into traffic gaps as they emerged. Jules tried not to look at the central clock, instead keeping his eyes focused on the sway of people ahead of him. He had delayed his return by a day at Faun’s behest and at the chagrin of his employers—what followed mostly justified the trouble.

 

After several minutes on the streets, linear and angular, and turning the occasional corner, he broke off and entered a grey building, lines sleek and angles clean like its brethren. It stood several storeys high, dark windows reflecting the world back unto itself.

 

After passing through the first set of doors, he paused at the bench, reaching into his bag. He had been sifting for a few moments when the outer doors opened.

 

“Jules.”

 

He glanced over his shoulder and smiled. Badge in hand, he slung the bag over his shoulder and returned the greeting. “Gwen.” He badged in, the faint beep of the door barely audible as he entered and waited for her to pass through.

 

“Did you receive your messages?”

 

“I told her not to send them through you any more.” He followed her to the elevators, glancing at the bulletin board posted between the doors. Beige and white papers lined the board, carefully aligned and pinned. A decorative plant sat beneath it, its leaves greying from the dust.

 

The elevator dinged and the doors slid open. He boarded, leaning heavily against the rail. Gwen stood at the panel, hands clasped behind her.

 

“She doesn’t give me much choice, you know.”

 

“I don’t.”

 

The doors shut. Faint music lilted from the speaker in the elevator as it descended, easing itself into the silence.

 

Jules pushed off from the wall, slipping past the doors once they opened. Gwen’s footsteps clicked quietly behind him as he navigated the basement. Unmarked doors lined the well-lit hallway, a handful propped open.

 

The hallway ended at a set of secured doors. A panel hummed on the wall nearby, waiting to be activated. He pressed his finger into the small well, feeling a quick pinch as it took a blood sample. The panel beeped and he wiped his finger on his pants, leaving behind a thin streak of blood. He pulled open the door, allowing it to click shut behind him.

 

Beyond the thick tinted glass stood a circular room, a hologram clock hovering the depressed centre. Desks and computers lined the room, three rows deep. Jules opened a locker by the door and slid his bag inside, closing it with a sigh. Gwen entered and claimed the locker next to his.

 

“Any connection problems?”

 

She shook her head, taking the glasses from her shirt pocket and slipping them on. “I don’t think she’s being honest.” She shut the locker and slid the lock home.

 

Jules rolled his eyes, grabbing a seat at one of the computers at the top row. He sank into the seat, early pangs of pain at the base of his spine. “You never answered my question.” He booted up the computer, his elbow on his desk supporting his cheek. The hologram spun slowly, seconds sliding away with each movement.

 

Gwen took a seat in the row in front of him and spun around to face him after turning on her computer. The top of her head peeked around his monitor, her eyes wide and blinking slowly.

 

“Can I help you?”

 

“If you’ll look at the video, you’ll see I’m right.”

 

He sighed, turning his attention back to his monitor. Several security notices flashed by and left him an empty desktop to work from. A series of clicks later, a video feed filled his screen, lines of text scrolling by in an adjacent window. It blinked every few seconds, revealing a different view with each one. At first it showed nothing but trees, followed by another view of trees, a fence visible in the corner. Eventually more of the fence came into view, surrounding a dilapidated building.

 

“Things have been quiet since the last disconnect,” she said, turning back to her workstation. “I don’t think this blip in the connection means anything.”

 

“Your track record says otherwise.” Jules chuckled, leaning back in his seat. A notice popped up on his screen, pausing the feed. “Looks like another train went down today.” He looked around his monitor at her. Gwen swung back and forth in her chair, ponytail moving in sync.

 

“That would explain the break in transmission, at least.” With her back to him, her words nearly slipped by.

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

She shook her head, her fingers poised over the keyboard. “It’s not your fault.”

 

Jules felt his throat tighten, nearly betraying him. He swallowed and spoke, moving the sounds through his mouth as evenly as he could. “A friend of mine was on the train. We had a fight before she left.”

 

“It’s not your fault,” she repeated, and began typing. “Prelim reports are coming in. And there’s another message from the lab. Should be in your inbox.”

 

Jules waited for the notification to reach his end, eyes scanning the screen several times until it did. His computer began beeping, its initial rhythm ramped to a frenetic pace until the machine froze and shut down. He stood, jaw clenched, and crossed the room.

 

“What happened? What’s wrong?”

 

Jules grabbed his bag from his locker and shouldered it, exiting the room without a word.

 

As the door closed quietly behind him, his tablet beeped. He growled and reached into the bag. The device kept slipping from his fingers, the adrenaline rush rendering them twitchy. Jules leant against the wall and swiped his finger on the scanner several times until it finally registered. The security notices flashed and disappeared, revealing a message window.

 

*//NOT SOLUTION TO QUARREL

 

*//DO NOT CONDONE RECKLESS BEHAVIOR

 

With each successive reading, his grip tightened on the machine. It took every ounce he had to keep from throwing it against the wall and instead slide it back into the bag.

 

Jules curled his hands into fists and slammed them against the wall behind him, knuckles white. He pushed away and headed down the hallway, sides of his hands bright red and bony protrusions at his wrists raw.