Taisce Moore is a knight with a shining M4. (taisce) wrote in immune_ic, @ 2012-07-21 21:44:00
in your life you seem to have it all; you seem to have control WHO: Taisce WHAT: Crisis of her own WHERE: Supply room, then Quarantine, then the armory, then O'Brien's usual guard tower. WHEN: July 21 STATUS: Standalone; Complete RATING: Uhhh medium? For emotions and stuff.
She really owed Marcus for dumping the supply room duties on him. And she knew it. Maybe she could talk O'Brien out of a bottle of decent tequila or something later on. Right now, she was on a mission, and that mission served two purposes.
There was a guard tower that was usually manned. As of that moment it was not, and Taisce was the type to pick up guard duty where it was needed. She'd done it numerous times in Kuwait, she'd still do it now. That was the first reason.
She made her way toward Quarantine. Every step seemed to get heavier. Taisce was afraid of everything associated with the word "quarantine" these days. Lady Luck had been a constant companion, even before the end of the former world. She survived high school, survived basic training, advanced training, and a tour in Kuwait. And then to top it off, she'd survived the outbreak of the infection on U.S. soil like everyone else at Sing Sing had. She had started to fear that her luck was going to run out.
Upon arriving, it took a moment for her to push open the door and make her way in. She didn't want to see Ellie. Not because she didn't care. She did. She just couldn't handle all the emotions and thoughts that would come with it.
Taisce's visit was short. The only reason she'd come that far was to retrieve the key to the armory. She was trying not to overwhelm O'Brien with things. Trying to be the best friend she possibly could, and right now that was covering guard duty. But she couldn't pull effective guard duty with just her machete. If something else were to go awry, she felt a million times more comfortable with a firearm in her possession.
She'd told him the same things she always did. He knew where to find her and her phone would be on, text if he needed anything. And with that part of her mission complete, she'd turned on her heel and hurried her way to the armory.
It only took a moment for her to locate a basic M4. It was the weapon she'd trained with in the Army, and the only firearm she was really comfortable with. She was shit with a handgun, and couldn't shoot at a distance with one anyway. She grabbed a couple of magazines, checked to make sure they were correct, slung the gun over her shoulder, and made her way back out. After securing the armory again, she trekked the familiar path to the guard tower.
The guard tower felt so different now that she was out here by herself. It shouldn't have been an unfamiliar feeling, but it was. It was eerily quiet and slightly lonesome. That was the other reason Taisce had thought to take over O'Brien's guard duty. She wanted to be left alone.
For the last few days she'd come to dwell on her own mortality and just how easy it was for life to end. And the realization had begun to sink in that she might not survive this whole ordeal. There were giant zombies now, that could break down walls, and very likely kill someone in the blink of an eye. And there had been infected things inside the walls of the prison they called their safe haven. Taisce didn't feel very safe. So here she was now, barricading the door and the windows she didn't need with anything she could. A physical barrier between her and the outside world. She'd come out again when she felt a little more in control of herself. Whenever that was. She wasn't exactly sure.
She pulled the rifle off of her back and checked it. It had been cleaned fairly well before being put on the rack she'd taken it from. That made her happy, someone knew how to properly take care of a weapon. Popping the magazine that was on it, partial clip she noted, back in place, she set it down on the desk in front of her. Focus went from her hands to the gun, back to her hands, to the desk. That desk. She'd spent so much time in such a short time in this room that the wood beneath her hands had significant meaning. Sure most of that meaning was awkward, but it was worth fighting for.
Taisce had known O'Brien only a couple of months, and felt like she'd known him a million times longer. Their friendship was a rather strong one for as short as they'd known each other. Sure, the bond wasn't as strong as his and Ellie's or his and Luke's. But Luke was blood and Ellie had earned that right. That didn't bother Taisce. What bothered her was the fact that she found herself caring more than she had ever expected to.
What if? She asked herself. That was an evil question with too many possible answers. What if one of those giant infected monstrosities had followed the rescue party back and decided to wreak havoc on Sing Sing? She sure as hell wouldn't be able to do much aside from pray that a well placed round would bring something that big down. Or at least slow it down. She wasn't immune. Or, at least, she couldn't bank on Lady Luck being on her side in that regard. As far as Taisce was concerned, one bite was game over.
Frustration boiled over her, up to that point, calm demeanor. She readied the gun to fire, and after opening the window a bit, lined her sight down the barrel. If anything got close, she was ready to fire at it. She wouldn't waste rounds, but she was going to protect what little she had left.
It had been a few years since she'd held an M4, but it was exactly like riding a bike. She could remember now exactly what to do. She could remember exactly how to fire it, and she felt confident in her aim. Sure she wasn't the best shot in the Army. She was no sniper. But she had been a sharpshooter, aiming for her expert marksman badge when she decided not to reenlist.
She'd spent a few hours trained on random zombies outside. But it was only a matter of time before Taisce found herself laying on the floor. She clutched the rifle like a child held their teddy bear. A textbook Pisces, Taisce had always bottled up her emotions until they overflowed. She hated burdening others, so she dealt with them alone. It wasn't anything new, she'd done it all her life. She'd have felt bad if anyone had seen her like this, she didn't like to let her emotions get in the way.
She felt like a horrible friend for not jumping to go find Luke. She felt horrible for not wanting to stand by Ellie's bedside. And she felt absolutely horrible about Eli. Sure, she didn't know him, but he'd been around for a while. Hell, he'd helped make the Fourth of July a little more festive. And she'd feel horrible for feeling horrible, later when she'd talk to O'Brien or Ellie or Marcus. If they asked. If they suspected anything was wrong. Maybe she'd get lucky and no one would notice that she'd been crying.
Taisce felt more alone than she'd ever felt in a long while. As far as she was concerned God had turned his back on her when her father died. Further evidence being her mother's suicide, losing contact with her brother, and the fucking zombie apocalypse. If there was a God? He was a sadistic asshole. Taisce preferred not to believe. Not believing hurt less than faith did. She focused her faith those closest to her and herself. That was all that she could truly bring herself to believe in anymore.
The rest of the night consisted of that cycle. Calm reverie staring down the barrel of an M4 carbine. And crying on the floor when the feelings decided to surface. One thing she knew for sure, someone would end up having to be pretty damned determined, and out-stubborn her to get her to come back out of the guard tower again. It wasn't going to happen that night, and it was rather unlikely looking in the next 24 hours.