Finding Hardware... And People Who: Verity, Joyce & Josh When: Day 6, morning Where: the hotel to the hardware store and back
Verity was really just wandering at this point. He was feeling restless and there was nothing to do, nothing to distract himself from fresh memories and future worries. He'd already posted his inventories of supplies, such as he'd been able to put together. He couldn't figure out who the information should go to, so a couple of signs seemed like the best idea. He might have opted for lying on his bed, staring at the ceiling, and hoping not to fall asleep, but that would set Jasper a bad example. He at least wanted Jas to get out, and trying to see to his brother's mental health forced him to take a little care with his own. He had decided that now was the time for his vending machine raiding project. There were a whole lot in a little alcove off the lobby. As good a place to start as any.
Verity was on his knees beside the machine, his head at a funny angle as he wriggled his paper clip inside the padlock. It wasn't the highest quality, but he hardly had the tools for the job. He'd felt that strange clarity begin to come over him, but whatever was going on in his head still freaked him out, and this time he'd managed to clamp down and keep it from happening. So he was doing this the old fashioned way. Jasper stood back a little, observing, and Verity kept up a constant stream of chatter, hoping against hope that his brother would answer, even just with a laugh. Or even by crying. He'd slipped repeatedly into talking about home, about their parents and their poor, lost little brother. He couldn't spend the rest of their lives pretending everything before hadn't happened. "But remember when you and September built that awesome ramp in the garage? way better than the one the matchbox cars came with. Though those things have gotten ridiculous. You should have seen the ones they had when I was your age. Boring little plastic strips. No robotic sharks or anything. But yours was better." It was a strange mixture of heartbreaking and comforting to talk about their lost family.
There wasn't a great deal to do after breakfast, except for annoying thoughts like 'Will I still be alive for lunch?' and 'What am I going to eat for lunch?' Other than that, not a lot to grab her attention, except place her two morning calls - it was ritual now - and watch as the power indicator on her cell phone got lower and lower and her messages remained unanswered.
Joyce performed her other morning ritual - Tai Chi - in one of the meeting rooms, feeling the need to escape her bedroom periodically, then she had the 'munchies' and crossed to the lobby, knowing she'd seen some vending machines there. Doritos weren't exactly the snack of champions, but when push came to shove, she felt it was usually best to avoid both circumstances.
"You're mixing up your metaphors," she mused softly aloud and rounded the corner - to hear the voice of a young man. Was he talking to someone or himself? No one seemed to be answering, but that didn't mean anything, one way or the other. Joyce smiled at the description of the ramp and matchbox cars, elements of things her own kids had played with and challenged her patience with. In the end, she usually ended up helping them or at least, they'd let her help and she'd taken pictures and provided the brownies. Pausing at the entrance to the little alcove, she leaned against the wall and smiled at the two boys.
"Having any luck with accessing that machine?" she asked, genuinely curious.
Verity jumped a little, his own blathering apparently keeping him from noticing his surroundings. He should remember that. Inside the hotel, especially in an enclosed space with no windows, he was probably safe, but if there was ever a time to learn to keep his mouth shut, it was now. Especially as Jasper didn't seem to be paying much more attention to him than usual, twisting a bent paperclip elaborately around his fingers and... Well, his big brother would have given anything to know what was going on in Jas's head, but his face gave no indication at all.
He looked around and smiled politely at the woman. "Oh, so far-" He stopped suddenly, just for a moment, as a perfect image of the inside of the lock swam before his eyes and it fell open in his hand. Apparently being startled had rattled his concentration too much. He should just let whatever it was happen. Couldn't be as weird as what had happened to Rowan, right? "Um, so far, so good, I guess..." Verity pulled the lock free and opened the snack machine. "Here, Jasper, go ahead and pick whatever you want. But just one candy for now, okay? Don't want you... Getting sugar high..." If he could get a response from Jasper, he'd be happy to take the irritable, unpredictable brat he was on a Milky Way bar too many. While Jasper solemnly considered his options, brooding for most of a minute before plucking himself Starbursts, Verity turned to the woman. "And, um, I guess that's all up for grabs now."
She hadn't meant to startle either of them - not that the younger one seemed to be bothered by her presence. The older boy was very polite, though, and as he opened the machine and provided advice to... his brother, she would guess, Joyce smiled in return.
"I guess it is. Good work. I don't think I had enough change for what I wanted, anyway." At six-foot-one, she had no difficulty reaching for a bag of Doritos without interfering with either of the brothers. "Thanks. So, is this a hobby or something you've been working on for a while now?" It was just a casual question as she took the bag by both sides and popped it open, without spraying the contents all over the floor, fortunately. Practice makes perfect. "You want one?" she asked, holding out the chips. "I mean, not that you don't have a lot of choice now and all, but I believe in sharing."
It was something her parents had ingrained in her and she had, in turn, made certain her children understood, as well. Her eyes caught sight of something else in the machine and she said, "Oooo, they have white cheddar popcorn, too..."
"I'm more of a pretzel fan, actually." Verity fished out a bag and popped it open with the practiced ease of a college student who ate out of the vending machines far too often for his own good. "Thank you, though. Um, I guess the lock thing is a hobby? It's not anything else. I just like to tinker with things and figure out how they're put together, and locks are fun for that. I don't have very good tools, though. Even that cheap little padlock gave me trouble." Verity didn't want to mention his funny visions of the innards of machines or the way locks and appliances seemed to react a little too quickly to his touch. He hadn't quite realized that everyone was supposed to be different now, and his first new acquaintances had had wings, extra limbs, and the ability to walk through solid objects. So much more impressive than being a slightly better machinist now that he didn't think his trick really registered on the same level. Maybe he was just crazy.
And there was nothing new about Jasper except refusing to talk. Verity glanced over out of now-habitual concern. Jasper popped a candy into his mouth wrapped and stuck out his tongue with the wrapper on the end in another moment. Weird kid, but Verity was glad to see any glimmers of his little brother emerge, even the annoying ones. Verity reached out and ruffled his brother's yellow hair.
Joyce watched him make his selection and open his bag. "You're welcome. I like my pretzels hot, so they're all yours..." She reached for the popcorn, adding, "And I'll stop after this. Leaves some for the others and it means I won't be sick in two hours." She popped a Dorito into her mouth and consumed it before speaking again. "It's a good hobby to have. Maybe we can get into a few more of these..." She nodded at the machine. "Stock up on stuff. I mean, it's junk food, mostly, but it's better than nothing." She frowned down at the bag. "Damn, I wish I didn't like these things so much..."
She ate another one and was content to witness the younger boy do tricks with his candy wrapper. There was an obvious connection between them, even if they didn't also share some physical resemblance, and the affection the older one had was endearing.
"Oh, and hi. I'm Joyce. Joyce Watkins."
"That was my plan. It'll stretch food supplies a little bit, huh? Not a huge contribution, and this'll be the last stuff we want to be eating. Empty calories and nauseating preservatives. Nutrition is something we're going to need to be really careful with." But he was sure people were already thinking forward to grocery stores, and who didn't know which foods were supposed to be stocked in an emergency? That was just basic. "That's just a beginning, of course. I bet I could get some necessary stuff rigged to take batteries, but we'd need to stock a whole lot of them first. Plus the tools I found in the janitor's closet are really basic, and well... And I'm talking too much." Someday, maybe, he'd stop doing that. He'd blathered aimlessly at just about everyone he'd met, planning out loud. Verity was filling any silence that presented itself with pragmatic, petty chatter to keep everything else at bay.
"Every little bit helps," she agreed. "And it sounds like you've given this a lot of thought. Good ideas here. Have you made a list of what you'd need to make this happen? And tools. Yeah, we need to get some more, absolutely. And barbecues." She gestured briefly with her half-empty bag of Doritos. "I want to get some of those and the propane cannisters and then, when the power completely goes off-line, we can still cook."
Joyce sighed. "What I really want to do is hit a hardware store or five. I love those places. I figure we'll find a lot of useful items there. And you're fine. It's good to meet someone who isn't in a corner, freaking. Still up and thinking, you know?" She noticed that the young man hadn't introduced himself or his brother and though she wondered why, she wasn't going to press them. They knew her name now, if they needed to yell it at any point. That was good.
Verity had really just sort of forgotten introductions. He was too scatterbrained lately to remember to put on socks half the time, keeping his mind spinning for fear of what he'd find there if it stopped. "A hardware store would be a dream. I probably wrote a list. I've written a lot of lists lately, actually." He almost recognized his frantic activity as a desperate coping mechanism, but not quite, and that kept it working. "And not just because hardware stores are my favorite place on earth, you know? I think we definitely want to grab hot plates, too, if we can find them. I bet even the water coming out of the taps is pretty contaminated at this point. There's just so much... well, rotting stuff around." Oh, like he was sparing Jasper anything. The poor ten-year-old boy had seen far too much already. "We'll want to be able to boil drinking water."
She ate another chip and sucked the salt from her fingers as she thought. "Lists are good, it's crossing things off that's even more satisfying. You know, maybe we should go. You and me and him makes three. We'll load up with bags and any decent hardware store will have dollies and bungee cords for a good haul. We'll check them out, liberate some of the things we want..." Joyce smiled down at the younger boy. "Do you like hardware stores, too?"
"I'd rather leave Jas with my friends. I, well, he's kind of just a kid." Duh. Verity realized only then that he hadn't introduced himself or his brother. "Oh, um, yeah. This is Jasper." He wasn't sure how to explain that his little brother hadn't spoken since all this had started. He didn't want to talk about Jasper as though he weren't there. Though he hardly seemed to be. His brother barely even looked up at Joyce before getting back to staring off into space. "Oh, and I'm Verity. But if you'll wait while I take him up to hang out with Juniper, then I'd love to join you. There's a lot of stuff we just need."
"Hello, Jasper," Joyce said. She could tell that something wasn't right, but she certainly wasn't going to ask. Not now, anyway. "Just didn't want to leave him out of the fun, if he wanted to join, but he'd... probably feel better there. Might get bored, otherwise." That last part was to alleviate any potential concern on the part of Jasper, but he didn't seem concerned at all. About... anything. "And nice to meet you, Verity. I need to..." She held up her hands and wiggled her salty fingers. "Take care of these and grab some bags, though they'll likely have some at a hardware store, too."
She was also going to grab the shotgun, but she wouldn't go into that with Jasper around. "Meet you back here in... fifteen?"
"Fifteen it is." Hopefully the elevator would behave that long. It was never a speedy mode of conveyance, but every time there was a little hitch or he waited what felt like too long, Verity was afraid something had broken. He was pretty handy, but he'd never worked on an elevator, or even given the mechanism any thought. Sure, it was simple, but he didn't want to be trying to figure it out in real time, even if he did have those weird moments of clarity around machines lately. Verity patted his brother's shoulder and the silent little boy turned to follow him, still munching starbursts, after grabbing another package. "Is that for Juny? That's nice of you." No answer, of course. Verity smiled over his shoulder to Joyce and headed for the elevators.
Did she really think it was a good idea to take a little kid outside? It struck Verity as a little mad. Jasper was pretty tall for his age, but he was clearly ten. He didn't care if the monsters mostly came out at night. He'd run into them in daylight, and even if he hadn't, you saw opossums and raccoons and foxes during the day sometimes. Nothing was so nocturnal it wouldn't wake up for a good reason. He didn't want to say anything rude, though, so he just deposited Jas with Juny and grabbed his backpack, heading downstairs to meet Joyce again.
Joyce watched the two head off and took the stairs to her fifth floor room. She washed her hands and splashed her face for good measure, then looped her empty gym bag over her head, so the strap was across her chest. She checked the shotgun - fully loaded - and added some more ammunition to one of the pockets of her jeans. She checked her phone - no messages - and her watch - Wonder where I'll have lunch today? - and after a pit stop in the bathroom, she went back down the stairs. She didn't rush. There was still some time.
And she was trying not to think about how Verity reminded her of her son. Maybe she'd be able to clear that thought before she reached the lobby.
Verity smiled at her. He was rather intimidated by the shotgun, but glad she had it all the same. He hoped she could use it. Verity didn't know the least thing about guns, but he grasped enough to know there was a lot that went into it. "Hi." He waved and hurried over, his empty backpack bouncing a little as he hurried. "So do you know the area at all? I can't say I do, and wandering around looking doesn't seem like a great idea." He had a sudden idea. "Um, do you think you could stay on a motorcycle? Because, well, I have one, and a spare helmet, so it'd be faster and safer. But then we could carry back less. Not that we want to bog ourselves down too much anyway."
There he was, ready and eager, shorter and slighter than Stephen but with similar coloring. Joyce sighed and smiled.
"I have a few ideas where we can look," she said. "We aren't far from a strip of businesses, so there's bound to be something. As for a motorcycle?" She chuckled at that. "It's been a while, but if you're fine with having a passenger, I'm fine with a ride. If we find some of the larger items we want to haul, we'll have to walk them, but it'd be handy to have a quick escape, just in case."
Joyce placed a hand on one of his slender shoulders and shared a reassuring smile. "And Verity? Slow down a little, okay? We're going to be fine. This is a good idea, what we're doing." Though she wondered if some of the others would think it prudent.
Verity jumped a little, not expecting to be touched and not especially comfortable with it. "Um, sorry. I just talk as fast as I think, I guess? Yeah." He shrugged. "I'll get my bike out, then. If we see something big that we think we really need, we should probably come back and let somebody know. Hotwiring isn't actually that hard, and we could find a big truck around somewhere, I'm sure. Like... generators. If we could grab some of those and fuel, we could keep emergency things running." He wasn't sure what, exactly, would constitute a particular emergency, but things would undoubtedly come up. Emergency was the general state all around them. Certainly a small generator couldn't keep the hotel running, but maybe the kitchen? Or a defibrillator or alarm system? Many possibilities.
Oh.
His discomfort registered, but Joyce didn't make a big deal of it. When he shrugged, she let her hand leave his shoulder naturally. Verity certainly did talk fast and if he aimed to try to catch up with the speed of Human thought, he'd likely be incomprehensible before the next morning.
"You get your bike and we'll get this party started, okay?"
Verity nodded and headed around to the kitchen storage door where he'd parked Prestigiar, carefully stowed where he hoped it wouldn't attract attention. Not that he could see what monsters would want with a motorcycle. Most of them didn't even have hands. But he was paranoid. Fussing over his bike was a relic of the life he didn't have anymore, tinkering with it while his little brothers sat nearby and handed him tools, scrubbing a little manically at any scuff. And he supposed there was a chance of someone trying to steal it instead of, say, investigating the building with the big, welcoming sign. He couldn't shake the suspicion that not everyone would want to form into a neat little commune and behave. "Well, here she is. I've got a second helmet, too, so... here."
Joyce followed slowly behind him, almost as if she needed to counter his speed with some more relaxed movement. It was that and running with a gun just wasn't something she was comfortable with - unless she had to...
He'd hidden it well. "Nice," she said, even though she didn't know much about motorcycles. She accepted the helmet and set the shotgun on the ground while she strapped it on. "Thanks for this... So, how long have you had her?" she asked, meaning the bike, of course. Maybe some 'normal' conversation would help.
"Eighteenth birthday gift. Well, my dad put in half, so a half gift? I dunno." It didn't take a practiced eye to see the machine was very well cared for, though it had picked up some unavoidable and unpalatable grime during Verity and Jasper's flight from home. He wasn't used to sharing with anyone adult sized. Jasper was usually his only companion, and before all this, only on very quiet streets. Well, his brother was big for a ten-year-old, and he didn't think there'd be much difference. "Um, I don't know if you've ever ridden double. I'll be careful, of course, so no worries, and you just hold on?"
"Very nice gift," she replied. "I see you take good care of her." Joyce picked up the shotgun. "I haven't ridden on a motorcycle in about twenty years, but I'll be fine. I'm a big girl, though, so I'll try to lean with the turns." As tall as she was, she didn't want to overbalance the motorcycle, which was a possibility - especially since the driver was quite a bit shorter than his passenger. "I trust you, Verity. It'll be fine."
"Yeah, I don't anticipate any problems. Just seems better to warn too much than too little, right?" Verity paused before buckling on his own helmet. "So, um, where're those shops from here?" Sort of awkward, wasn't it, that he was driving when she knew where they were going? One couldn't really give directions from the back of a motorcycle, or at least, not safely. Verity had a good sense of direction and trusted his driving, but that wouldn't do much good if they were lost. He wished he'd been able to grab his riding jacket. Not that it was cold or that the leather provided that much protection in the event of a spill, but it was a familiar little comfort and easy to miss right now, easier than missing his littlest brother.
She nodded. The helmet fit fairly well. "The more informed you are, the better decision you can make. And we're going west so..." She looked briefly left and right. "That way," she said, pointing right. "It's a bit trendy around the hotel, so we'll head toward some industrial park type buildings. I can't guarantee there'll be a hardware store there, but if not, it won't be far out. Probably a Home Depot or something..."
It occurred to her then that a motorbike might attract the attention of monsters, but if Verity took good care of it - and it looked like he did - then it wouldn't be too loud.
"Tell you what. If I think we need to turn right, I'll give your top a tug on the right. Left, the left. If I think we need to slow, I'll... pat your back a little." She gathered he wasn't into contact, but what else could they do? She didn't want to yell over the engine and hope that he heard her correctly. "But you know, you can go with your gut, too. It's got you this far, right?"
Verity was thinking more in terms of Ace than Home Depot. Not that a bigger store wouldn't be a godsend, but he knew they wouldn't really be able to take back anything massive and really... promising. "Right, we'll aim for something that looks practical? Not that you can't find some wonderfully weird bits of equipment in coffee shops and restaurants, but they're all the kind of thing that the hotel probably has already." Verity nodded at her suggestions. He wasn't exactly opposed to being touched, just to being startled. He pulled his helmet on and secured it carefully, always a stickler for safety. With two little brothers who looked up to him, it was an important habit to get into. Verity settled in, finding her method of communication perfectly reasonable, and turned on the bike, enjoying the purr of the engine he cared for so particularly.
It could very well end up being an Ace or even one of the few remaining Home Hardwares in the city, but Joyce wasn't too picky. Right now, she just wanted to get a feel fro what was out there and bring back what they could. Planning another run, possibly with more people to help, could happen later. They had to know the pickings first.
"I'm all about the practical," she said and once he was settled on the bike, she sat behind him, shifting a little to find a comfortable position - well, as comfortable as she could get, anyway. With one hand occupied holding the shotgun, that left the other to find a hold on the machine or a hold on the young man. She wasn't sure which to choose, but as time was fleeting and madness had probably already taken hold of any survivors, Joyce gripped the bike with her legs and placed her free hand on his side. This way, she could give directions, as she'd suggested, too.
"Ready whenever you are." She raised her voice a little, so she'd be heard over the sound of the engine, which wasn't nearly as loud as it would be once the bike was in motion.
Verity nodded a bit and took off, letting her touch guide him. He was a very careful driver, not moving too quickly but dodging carefully around cars, debris, and bodies (where he couldn't avoid them entirely). It was a little strange to ride with an adult passenger taller than he was, but it wasn't too difficult to compensate. He doubted he'd hear anything over the engine and through his helmet, so he kept his eyes peeled. Verity hoped there wasn't anything in the streets that could outrun his bike, but he didn't dare trust in that. And there were always surprisingly tight alleys. The only time he spotted something long and undulating moving on too many too-short legs, but it moved away before he could even be properly scared by it.
He drove well, being cautious of the various obstacles in the road and taking her size into consideration. She leaned into the turns and it seemed to work out. Joyce tried not to look too closely to the Human remains, as they had deteriorated considerably and were difficult for her to look at now. Recently dead was one thing. Decomposing in the street...?
Too many to bury and too dangerous to even try...
She saw the same creature he did and they were passed it before she could really react to it, too. With any luck, that would be as close as they would come to any strange encounters. They approached a strip mall and Joyce tugged on the fabric of his T-shirt on the right side. Though she couldn't see it from here, she seemed to recall from her bus route to the Tai Chi classes she hosted that a hardware store of some kind was here.
Verity pulled into the lot carefully, scanning the stores and parking close to the small hardware store. A start. He carefully chose a space away from other cars. He'd seen monsters hide inside or under cars before, and wanted a position at least reasonably defensible. After he parked and hopped off, he stood still, scanning the lot and glancing through the picture windows of a bakery. He didn't see anything coming toward them, but there were still plenty of things to hide behind. He didn't trust his eyes at all. "Well, let's head in. ...Carefully."
Joyce smiled, helmet still in place and dismounted, shotgun at the ready. "Carefully. Got it." She eyed the bakery and wondered, just briefly, if there were any goodies that wouldn't have spoiled by now. "You like cream puffs? Chocolate croissants? Stuff like that?" She stepped onto the sidewalk, turned to take in the parking lot - nothing - and reached for the door to the hardware store.
"Um, well, I like it alright?" Verity shrugged. "Seems like all those things would want refrigerating, though. It's been most of a week..." Stale sweets held little appeal. "And if we were going to grab any of that, we should probably do it on the way out. Or we'll be putting batteries down on top of cookies. That's a recipe for crumbs and nothing else." He stood carefully at attention as Joyce pulled the door open, but nothing seemed to be moving inside. He supposed there wouldn't be much reason for a monster to slip in. Nothing to eat but a few boxes of stale candy at the checkout.
She sighed, disappointed but not surprised. She grinned. "I know. Still, I could really go for something like that right now. Empty calories, bring them on..." Joyce shook her head and pulled at the door to the hardware store. It didn't resist. "Not locked. Okay." She raised the shotgun in a manner she hoped looked confident. At least she knew she could fire it this way. "Someone else could be in here, monster or otherwise. You never know." And she slid inside.
It was dark. Didn't look like anyone had gotten here to turn the lights on the day it all began. He immediately went poking around for a switch. The windows were big, though still full of sale announcements and congratulations for a retiring employee and neighborhood fliers, but the light could only get back so far. He found a row of light switches and turned them all to maximum. Something growled toward the back of the store and Verity froze. It didn't sound like that high-pitched gurgle belonged to anything big, but he still didn't want to meet it.
It took a moment for her eyes to adjust. Everything was still, though. No sound other than their breathing and the faint shuffle of their feet. Good. She hoped it stayed that way. Verity was feeling along the wall and she guessed switching on the lights wouldn't hurt. It would certainly make their task go faster and it wasn't as if it would be a beacon, the way it would if they were doing a run at night...
Then the lights went on and she heard the gurgle, too. She looked at Verity and wondered if they should back out and make a fast exit on his bike.
Verity gulped and looked around. "There aren't... many places to hide." He kept his voice low. "It's orderly. Doesn't look like anything big has been through." He didn't want to turn around now. Verity walked to a display of garden tools and picked up a hoe, bracing it on his shoulder. Seemed like as good a weapon as anything. One nice thing about the location was how full it was of pointy things. He'd have to be very careful of Joyce, though. Verity's never held a weapon in his life before this began, and the poker probably didn't help anyway.
"Uh-huh," she said softly, nodding her head, her eyes scanning the front of the store. She noted that he acquired something he could use as a weapon and was glad he wasn't freezing up on her. Hell, she was glad that she wasn't freezing up. She still surprised herself with the ability to keep going and this whole 'protector mode' she had going on. She attributed it to being a nuturing type and defending her 'family'.
Go, Mom...
"Just... Be careful and don't get in front of me..." She moved to step beside him and together, they started forward.
"Don't get in front of the lady with a gun? I think maybe I can handle that." Verity tried a weak smile. The store was so distracting. He loved hardware stores to the point of just coming in for fun after work some days, looking for anything he'd never played with before, taking bits and pieces home to his workshop to see what he might be able to add them to. He even loved staring at pipes, though he didn't know much about plumbing at all. They were just so shiny and came in such interesting shapes.
It suddenly occurred to Verity that the door hadn't been locked. Meaning someone might be in here after all, either making that awful little sound or dead. Verity thought it smelled rather like rot, but the whole world seemed to smell like that recently. "Someone unlocked this place. So... Yeah." He didn't think he needed to elaborate.
Verity seemed a little distracted, but let her know he was paying attention. As much as Joyce appreciated hardware stores, too, her focus was on the noise - well, noises coming from near the back.
"Someone did," she replied, her voice a whisper. "So... yeah..." She paused at the end of one aisle, pressed herself against a stack of plywood and waved Verity back. Then she crept forward and turned her head, looking down the aisle as best she could without making herself too vulnerable. She saw a pair of booted feet about three yards away and quickly moved her eyes over the rest.
Joyce pulled back, met the young man's gaze and mouthed, "Corpse. Being eaten." By a creature that might once have been a fox or a raccoon or a dog - or all three.
He wasn't surprised. It was actually very strange how little he was surprised. He was getting jaded fast, it seemed. Body being devoured by a twisted mockery of the very act and breadth of creation. Ho hum, must be Tuesday. Or whatever day it was. He didn't know. He peeked around and nodded. It didn't seem like a good idea to shoot in here if they could avoid it. Joyce's choice of gun was big, loud, and destructive. His hoe seemed like it would be efficient, and he needed to use it fast, before his stomach turned too much at the idea of beating an animal to death, even an animal that seemed to have grown two sets of chitinous mandibles and an untold number of eyes and nostrils, randomly distributed on its disproportionately large head. He nodded slowly and hefted his hoe, cocking his head and moving forward.
If he'd asked her what day it was, all she would have been able to manage was 'Day 6 of the Apocalypse'. The gun wasn't her choice, either, but it was all she had. Then Verity was heading toward the creature and its breakfast, the hoe raised to take care of... That poor creature... It was the first one she'd seen that was almost like an animal more than a strange amalgam of twisted Humanity. It wasn't like they could save it and keep it as a pet. This wasn't a Disney movie. There was no Blue Fairy to make Pinocchio into a real boy. Joyce had time to aim the shotgun, just in case it was necessary, and time to wonder if she should be grabbing a garden tool instead...
Verity had never in his life had any reason to go about... stalking prey. He didn't even smash spiders, preferring to look them up in his bug book instead. He'd cried when a mouse problem at home had necessitated traps (admittedly, when he was seven, and he'd spent a lot of time crying back then). But it wasn't that difficult. Mechanically, anyway. His worn tennis shoes didn't make a sound and it was easy to scan the floor for odd spots in the tile that might squeak. The animal was intent on its meal. At least it hadn't been a person. Verity didn't think he could kill one that had begun as a person, though he'd already witnessed it done. One of those things was his baby brother... He shook his head lightly and brought the hoe down with a horrid crunch, flinching away at the last moment so he didn't see. His aim was alright (though the creature's death wasn't as clean as he'd meant it), but he'd put too much power into it. Verity had a lot more strength in him than one would think, and the hoe had buried itself in the corpse underneath. He turned away from sound, sight and smell, covering his mouth. He managed not to throw up, but it was a close thing.
Joyce didn't really have a choice but to watch and hope that the animal - creature - wouldn't notice the threat until it was too late. Threat. A young man with a gardening tool, who looked like he'd rather not have to kill anything at all...
She didn't look away when the hoe impacted and stuck all the way through to the corpse. It was her way of confirming what had occurred. Her way of dealing with events, bearing witness to what some people had to do now and what some things had become. The smell was bad. Joyce reached out and placed a hand on Verity's arm, tugging him gently away from the scene to an aisle where it wasn't visible any more - nor were any of the senses assaulted. It took several aisles before this was accomplished.
"Okay. That was... Thank you." A smile of appreciation, then, "Now, we need to see what we can get from here and if we can get it back to the hotel. Are you up for that?" She wouldn't blame him if he wasn't, but maybe focusing on the purpose for their trip would help.
"I'm fine." He was certainly lying, but it wasn't so bad. He'd had a few chances to get used to this sort of thing. He and Rowan had fought off that squirming thing under the car and the one with too many legs. He was getting there. Soon he'd be able to just cope. The problem wasn't the act itself, but that the mere sight of one of those wretched things brought September to mind. And Verity didn't fight that. He wouldn't let himself forget a thing about his baby brother, even the things that hurt like hell. "We probably mostly need basics. Batteries, nails and screws in a couple sizes..." He swallowed. Yeah, better. He'd be really okay soon enough. "There are simple tools at the hotel. Raided them from janitor's closets..." Swallow.
He wasn't fine. He was no more 'fine' than Juan was on that first day, teleporting from terror with Alan into the bar, shotgun and all. Calling him on it wouldn't help. Not now, anyway.
"Okay. Let's start small, so there's less weight to carry around the store." She glanced at the signs mounted on the end of the aisles. "We need screws and nails..." Joyce gave his arm a gentle squeeze before letting it go. "And so you know? I'm 'fine'. too." Maybe she didn't need to share with him that she was in a similar circumstance, but it might help him to know he wasn't alone in that regard. Likely, he figured anyone would be having a difficult time and just getting through, but she wanted it spoken. That done, she turned toward a main aisle, scanning the signs.
"Yeah." Something to focus on was, as usual, exactly what he needed. Joyce's concern was nice, but he didn't really dare pay too much attention to it. She didn't remind him at all of his mom, more his ideas when he was a kid of what a mom should be like, but she still drew his mind places he didn't think it ought to go. "A good mix of weights and sizes... I'm glad there're basic tools. I'll grab pliers, too. You always need more pliers. Best tool ever. Well, after WD-40 and duct tape." There was an old joke on the tip of his tongue, but it didn't quite come out. He was still feeling a little faint, but the smell of metal calmed him a lot. Verity breathed in and out, focusing on the tools in front of him and not the... corpse. Better.
She would have been pleased to know that she didn't remind him of his mother. She didn't want to be his mother, though the protective nature was still there. No one could replace anyone's mother, though being the 'ideal' of a Mom would have been an interesting concept to discuss.
"Pliers are good," she said smoothly, as if they weren't living in a nightmare world and there weren't dead things in the store with them. "And WD-40 and duct tape are our friends, but we must always respect their awesome power." It was something her son would have said. She wondered if he was still out there, in California, scouring hardware stores for useful items. Had Stephen survived? Had Jennifer? Were they rallying with others to make it through another night?
"And crowbars. We should pick up one or two more." She had one in her room and it had been very handy during the trip to the hotel. "Dr. Freeman taught me that..." Did Verity play video games? Who could say? Maybe he wouldn't get the reference.
Verity was indeed a video game enthusiast, though he didn't have much time to put into that hobby between work and school. "Heh, and we know he's right about everything. But yeah, crowbars are pretty lightweight in the grand scheme, and useful for all sorts of things. I didn't manage to grab Mr. Smashy on the way out of the house. I'll need a new one, I guess." Funny the things one missed. He missed everything about home, sure, but he didn't realize he had an emotional attachment to the crowbar he'd named while a bit drunk and written a title on proudly.
He knows 'Half-Life'. Thank you, God.
"He isn't right about everything, but he's a survivor and he knows how to swing a crowbar. Well, he did when I played him, anyway. I bet they have..." She looked down another aisle cautiously, just in case. There wasn't anything, living or previously living, in sight. "All kinds of crowbars here. You can choose a new... 'Mr. Smashy'..."
Turning left, she scanned the bins of nails and screws. "I guess we've found the place. Most useful sizes would be...?" She could take a guess, but appreciated his input, especially since he had mentioned them in the first place.
Verity began collecting them up as neatly as he could. Normally it wasn't a big deal to just toss a couple little bags into his backpack, but now that bag would be packed to its limits. He didn't need little pointies poking holes in what was already a pretty worn down bag, so he packed them in as orderly a fashion as was possible. The task was oddly calming, just sorting through useful sizes of sensible tools. A little self-hypnosis and it could have been any afternoon he was out of school and had an hour before work to plan strange little ideas. A day when both his brothers were waiting for him when he got back and the biggest problem he had was not understanding his homework.
She watched as he chose the screws and nails, chose a few other things - including pliers - kept his conversation to the minimum. Joyce found a decent hammer, a few solid screwdrivers - none of those plastic multi-tools - and a hand drill. She explored and found one of those windup radios. It wasn't likely that any stations were playing anymore, but it was also a tape deck and could be a battery charger for other things. That was good. Duct tape was located, along with some solid lengths of rope. The barbecues were easy to find and so were the propane tanks. Getting either item back to the hotel on a motorcycle would be tricky or impossible.
Verity was very pleased with himself for thinking of the flashlights you charged by shaking them. Those could very well be their only source of light, and with the days getting shorter by a few precious minutes a day, Verity was a good way to developing a fear of the dark. He loaded his bag up with a couple different sizes. Yes, they were heavy, but they'd be in high demand. He'd have to suggest that any group that left picked up as many of these as they could find. "I think we should try and outfit everyone we can with one of these," he whispered, rejoining Joyce. He was pretty sure they had all they could carry.
"That's using your head," she said. "You scavenge well, Verity. I think.... we might be maxed out, though, for this trip. Anything more and your tires will be flat..." It was a shame, but more trips would be required. "Should we stop for some fuel on our way back?" And she held up the gas can she'd appropriated. "For when your ride gets hungry..."
"Yeah, I know how to siphon. It's kind of nasty, but it's doable." He felt accomplished. Loaded down with lots of heavy metal stuff, but accomplished all the same. He packed a few more batteries into the side pockets of his backpack and then, just because he could, a pack of gum. It felt surprisingly daring, stealing dusty semi-food from nobody. Well, gum was nice after riding. He tended to feel a little dried out after he'd been riding a while. "Let's get going before the bugdog's big brother comes to look for it." Making light of the situation almost made it less awful. Almost.
"Good, though maybe we can find a pump that still works, hmmm?" She made a face. "Siphoning... is gross. Let's avoid it if we can." She nodded when he suggested they go and pulled one of the packages of Twizzlers she'd lifted from the display by the cash registers. "Licorice?" she asked, opening the bag, pulling one out and sticking the end into her mouth, then offering him the bag as they headed for the door.
Verity declined. Licorice tasted kind of weird. "No thanks. Let's just go ahead and get back." Jasper was waiting. He remembered his manners suddenly and tried to smile. "Um, yeah, thanks though." Shouldering his very full bag was going to be a real pain getting back. Well, he'd just have to drive carefully, wouldn't he? The parking lot still seemed clear and Verity didn't want to wait for it to change. He motioned Joyce forward and took off.
Josh had no idea how long he'd been in the alley next to the immense building that he thought was a hotel. He knew that it was hot outside, even in the shadows about a foot away from where the mouth of the alley met the sidewalk; of course, Josh was always hot now. He could feel his clothes clinging to him, and his cornsilk-blond hair was plastered to his skull. He almost wanted to take some of his clothing off, but then what would he do if he had to run? He couldn't afford to lose a single item he had in his possession, and even as he sat in the dirty alley that smelled like death-- there were corpses near the dumpsters, further down-- he had one hand curled around one strap of his pack.
There was something horribly wrong with him, he was sick... something. He knew that he had to have a fever, because he was chilled and shaking even with as hot as it was on this August day. Was it the heat inside him, he wondered, the same force that had spewed out of him and practically dissolved the monsters that had attacked him? He didn't understand how he could do what he'd done, but he knew he'd be dead right now if he hadn't. He curled up into a miserable ball and rested his forehead on his knees, not sure what to do next.
The ride back to the hotel was slower, due to the awkward bulk of full bags and the weight of same. Their jackets were packed, too. Joyce gripped the bike with her legs and hoped her hands weren't needed any time soon. They were quite full. She knew how to reach the gun, though, if it came to that. One of her bags would be dropped and she'd be set. If they survived an encounter, they could always come back for the bag.
Chewing on the last of her twizzler as they turned an alley toward the hotel, she thought she saw a shape, curled against the wall with a collection of refuse. It was a familiar shape: Human. Hands full, she leaned forward and bit a portion of Verity's top, then tugged at it before saying, "Slow down. Human."
He didn't really hear her, but he felt the tug and stopping was the only reasonable response. Verity pulled to a gradual stop and immediately tugged off his helmet. He wasn't sure about the tactic, but either he could have his full senses about him or he could be perfectly ready to take off again at a moment's notice, and safely. A gambit either way. Closer to the hotel seemed safer. Quite illogical, but there it was. He spotted the young man in a moment. "I see him. Um... hey?" The noise of the motorcycle had probably alerted him.
Josh had indeed noticed the roar of the motorcycle's engine, and he'd lifted his head to watch them with all the paranoia of a trapped rabbit in a burrow. Could he burn them up if he had to? he wondered to himself. He didn't think he could. He'd temporarily burned himself out, something he knew only by instinct, by how his head and his body felt. If they decided to attack him, there wouldn't be anything he could do. He shifted his weight, feeling as if he should run, but he couldn't. He was too weak; he hadn't had anything to eat for at least a day, and there'd been very little water. Josh regarded the two people, who at least didn't look like monsters, with fever-glazed blue eyes, having no idea what to say to them. He put a hand on the brick wall beside him and began trying to get to his feet, feeling entirely too vulnerable in this position.
The figure by the wall didn't say anything, but did try to stand - and not very successfully, at that. It was a young man and it was obvious that he needed help. Joyce didn't require any further incentive to move. "Okay, I'm just going to..." She slid off the bike, set her bag down and shifted the gun to her other hand. Helmet and backpack still in place, she smiled at Verity. "Yeah, could you... shout if you see danger?"
Then she was moving slowly toward the man, still smiling, shotgun pointed at the ground.
"Hi," she said. "We're not going to hurt you. You understand that? Are you hurt?"
Verity nodded, deciding he wouldn't be a lot of help. He'd come if she yelled for him, but he knew only the barest minimum of first aid. And when it came to comforting someone who was in absolute terror? He'd be worse than useless with his habit of irritating babble. Nobody who'd just crawled out of a wrecked car or fled a ravening abomination that had once been a family member needed to hear Verity talk. Really, just a terrible idea. "I'll, um, hold the fort then? Over here?"
Josh noticed that she had a gun, but then he had one, too. He just didn't know how to use his. It was amazing the things one thought about when trying to determine the level of threat they might be facing. He might've even tried to pull it out of his pack, because the woman didn't know that he had no idea how to fire it... but he quite honestly didn't have the energy. He nodded as she got closer and asked if he understood what she was saying. Using every bit of strength he had left at the moment, he got himself up and on his feet; he leaned against the brick wall with one shoulder, watching her a bit warily. "Sick," he said, his voice low. "Not h-hurt other than that." Even as he spoke, sweat dripped from his hair into one eye, and he twitched and lifted one hand to wipe it away. He couldn't perceive any threat from her or from the guy who'd been driving the motorcycle.
"Yep. I need you to... hold the fort," she said to Verity, her eyes never leaving the other man. She nodded, so he'd know she understood him, and wondered if what he was sick with was contagious. With so many rotting corpses and no one to move or bury them and creatures eating and defecating in the streets, all kinds of plagues were possible. She wasn't about to leave anyone who was still Human outside, though. Not if she had anything to say about it.
"Okay." Joyce was within a few feet of the stranger now. She stopped. "I'm Joyce. We should get you someplace safe. We're just near... a building, where there's... other people, too. Survivors. Like... Like you. And me." She gestured back to Verity. "And him. I think we should go there." She didn't think he could make it under his own power, though. Maybe he could ride behind Verity and she'd walk the rest of the way.
"Yeah, um, let's just head there." Verity leaned over, not wanting to leave the bike or get in Joyce's way. The poor guy didn't look good. He tried to offer his help from a distance, difficult when he was struggling to keep his voice down and not attract monsters. "Um, yeah, there's a hotel! It's great, um, lots of people, food, comfortable rooms, even. Best place to weather out the end of the world!" ...Yeah, he deserved to be punched in the head.
Even with as awful as he felt, it was a near thing as to whether Josh accompanied them. He was so used to not trusting anyone, because for years, the only people he'd ever trusted were either dead or inaccessible to him. He looked from one of them to the other and then back again, and finally leaned down to pick up his backpack. He hitched it over one shoulder and began making his way out of the alley, one hand braced on the wall. He might not look as if he could walk on his own, but he had a lot of determination, and he figured that surely he could make it inside before he collapsed for a while. His lips actually twitched upward in the faintest of smiles when Verity popped out with his remark about the end of the world; he didn't find it irritating at all. He didn't do so well with talking himself most of the time, so he admired when other people could. "Okay," he said, using his free hand to push his sodden hair firmly back on his head and out of his eyes. He was so hot that he wanted to just take off all his clothes and lie on the floor somewhere, maybe finally cool down.
Joyce rolled her eyes a little at the 'end of the world' comment, but Verity had been through enough crap that she forgave him. She held out her free hand to the young man, thinking it might be helpful for balance. "Do you think you could hold on the back of a motorbike or should we just... walk you there? You can use me as a brace. I don't bite."
The weather was warm, but this guy looked like he'd been cooked. Did he have a fever? Perhaps they could check him properly once they reached the hotel.
"Yeah, it'll take a while, but that's probably the best way to get back." Verity frowned and motioned him over. "It's kind of awkward. But we'll get you there. We're almost to the front door anyway." His poor bike. Oh, well, she'd live. "And once we're inside there are medical supplies. Or just beds. It'll be comfy." He should probably just go ahead and shut up. He was bothersome, wasn't he? Just in general.
Verity was doing just fine, as far as Joyce was concerned, even though he seemed to be a little nervous. That was understandable. "Take my hand, sweetie," she said to the young man. "You can ride behind and it'll be easier for you, hmmm? I'll bring the bags," she said over her shoulder to Verity. She was a big girl and could manage. It helped that the hotel really wasn't far away at all.
"I can get there okay," Josh said once he'd reached the bike with his pack. Knowing that being safe inside where he could cool off was only minutes away had given him the determination to do whatever it took to get there. "I j-just wanna lay down." His cheeks flushed when Joyce called him sweetie, but he didn't imagine it would be noticeable with as sweaty and flushed-looking as he was anyway. He felt bad about getting onto the bike behind the dark-haired man whose name he still didn't know, because he was disgusting... sweaty and dirty and he probably stank to high heaven, but there wasn't much he could do about it right now. "S-s-sorry about this." A bit awkwardly, he straddled the back of the cycle and gingerly took hold of the sides of Verity's shirt, figuring it wasn't far enough for him to fall off even if he didn't hold very tightly.
"Hey, no worries." Verity was pretty used to sweaty and gross. It certainly wasn't worth a few moments' comfort to deny this poor kid a ride. Growing up with two brothers and only the most absent mothering, plus working in a garage, made it perfectly easy to ignore the state of a sick kid. "Um, have you ever sat a motorcycle before? It's not exactly intuitive... You might want to hold on a little bit tighter."
Joyce gathered their bags and slung them over her shoulders. She then checked with the young man, whose name she still didn't know, and asked, "You want me to take your pack, too? I can handle it. We'll get you lying down soon, sweetie." She smiled at Verity, who was being a regular knight, and resisted the urge to muss up his hair. It would have been a sign of appreciation, but it also might have been embarrassing.
"I n-never did," Josh told him when asked. He hesitated for a couple of seconds and then scooted closer, tentatively moving his arms so they were partially around Verity, fists gripping his shirt. He was so unused to touching people that he had to think about where and how to put his arms, and he thought that was fairly pathetic. He was one gigantic blush now, dripping sweat and starting to feel woozy again, so he decided to just keep quiet and hope he wouldn't fall unconscious or something and fall off of the cycle. He shook his head at Joyce when she asked if she could take his pack, because he already had it firmly on his back, both arms through the straps, and he didn't want to have to unravel himself and have to start the whole process of getting hold of Verity all over again. He was so tired and felt so feverish that he wanted to cry, but that wasn't something he'd ever done in front of people.
"Okay, just, um, hold on tightly, and we'll get you home and back." Verity hoped he sounded reassuring. He couldn't guess whether Josh was younger or older than he was. Probably about the same age. But he'd gotten used to sort of trying to look out for Rowan and Liah lately (though he probably did a poor job), and most of his attention went into Jasper. He was in a protective mode. "I'll go slow. It's not that hard as long as the ride is smooth, and it's only a little ways."
"I'll see you back at the ranch," Joyce said, hoping she sounded confident that everyone would get there without any unfortunate adventures. The hotel wasn't far. The boy could get some food and water into him, maybe a clean up, introduced to some of the others, get his bearings. Know that he didn't have to be alone anymore. She sighed, satisfied with the day, and, heaving the various bags onto her shoulders and into her hands, she started her slow, steady walk to the hotel.