trans_9 | Survivalist Plot: All That Scarcity Promotes is Desperate Men and Tyrants

"You're sure that's not too long to wait?" But Cedric obliges. He lowers himself next to Howard for easier reach, securing the arm on his shoulder. When Howard's secure, Cedric lifts them very slowly. He's in no hurry to let go either.

"All right. Here, drink," Cedric offers stretching his leg to catch the handle of the briefcase with his foot. It's pulled close, and Cedric quickly uncaps one of the bottles and holds it up. "Then I should make food the same way you did, huh?"

Howard needs a drink first. And warmth. Cedric's staying close for a while, but he's slowly working on a better solution for that.

"Doesn't matter. If I get back to Stacy we can fix it all the way there." And if they don't...well, Howard won't finish that thought. He knows what will happen. Between the conditions here and the shape he's in, if they don't get back to the ship soon he's a dead kid. He can't defend himself and unless he finds an outright vat of antibacterials and antibiotics, he'll be suffering whatever infection laid the little girl low in a matter of days.

He all but guzzles the drink down when Cedric offers it. He's thirstier than he thought. "Yeah. Find a way to cook it so it doesn't just go bad. Figure out if the fridge upstairs is working. And sop up the blood from that guy there and wring it into a bottle or something. We might need to stay here a while."

He's shivering a little. He starts to rip a strip off the hem of his pants to make a bandage to start to cover the burns. It won't help with the major problem of sanitation, but it'll keep them from sight, and it'll give Cedric the illusion that Howard's doing something.

"But stay here for a few minutes, if you don't mind?" He reaches over and squeezes Cedric's hand again. "Thanks for saving my life. Never do it again."

Cedric forms his mental list of things to do. Take care of the meat, collect...liquid, care for Howard, with the last item being the first priority. It's certainly easier to fixate on what he can do than what he can't, and it's his job to hold out hope that they'll make it.

He just has to carry Howard out and pray Maxine and Clef got their signal.

"I can't promise that I won't," Cedric whispers. He cares too much. For instance, now he sees that an already cold and injured Howard is further damaging his clothes. That won't do.

"Wait, don't. You're cold enough." Cedric pulls back slightly, pulling off his own shirt. It's not perfect, but there's more intact cloth to use. He makes quick work of what remains of the long sleeves, holding them out to Howard.

You know, whenever Howard may or may not picture Cedric shirtless, it's really never in these circumstances. Howard shoots Cedric a peevish look as gratitude for the sudden new heap of awkward that has befallen them both.

"Or you could have seen if there are curtains upstairs instead of stripping down." The snideness in his voice is covered a little bit by another cough that works its way up his body. It's a strange position for him, to be the one tended to and not the one doing the caretaking, and he certainly doesn't like it. He feels defenseless and that means that he's expecting death any moment now, and compounded on the pain he's in, it's made his temperament particularly volatile. Not that he isn't extremely grateful, but as Cedric knows, Howard's not exactly amiable on the best of days.

Mostly, it's the knowledge that he'll have to rely on Cedric that scares him. On the one hand, Cedric won't abandon him like Diana would (probably - he still isn't sure he trusts Cedric to stay by his side). On the other, Cedric also will hesitate before doing what needs to be done in these sorts of circumstances, or not realize what he needs to do entirely. And that's terrifying.

They're a strange team, the two of them. Strange friendship first of all, but an even stranger team.

Cedric shakes his head. "If we find that much cloth, it's going to be your blanket. And I didn't want to go too far right away."

He pulls the shirt back on for the present, worrying about many of the same things. This situation is totally overwhelming for him. Howard's always in control here. He knows how to find food and water, how to avoid being caught, how to survive less than ideal conditions, and all about medicine. Cedric...doesn't. But he has to become competent, and fast.

"I'll get all this, then the blanket-curtain. Thing." he decides, eying their decomposing friend. He crawls over with the already empty bottle in hand, using it to collect their awful drink before the pool runs dry.

"We could try and find a blanket for a blanket too." But Howard does actually appreciate that Cedric hasn't gone far yet - even when Cedric went upstairs for the pen Howard could still hear his footfalls. And that's much more comforting than the idea of laying down here with a corpse, not sure if anyone would be coming back down for him.

He does spare a little smile at Cedric as Cedric collects what he can over the bloody pool. Too bad the beast's heart has long stopped beating - collecting blood is much easier when the body's still pushing it around.

"You know, you're not an awful medic." This is, apparently, how Howard's going to roll tonight, cranky and clingy, complaints and compliments back to back. Cedric's here, so Howard has a target to lash out at, but by this virtue Cedric is also Not Gone and Howard would like to keep it that way.

"It's probably dark up top and if not, it will be soon. What we got to do is get rest here and signal the others." Howard's eyes move over to the flare gun. "And hope to god you were right when you said Clef and Maxine got a plan. When and if we find them, you do you best to ignore me and I'll do my best to keep up and act like nothing's wrong."

Howard sinks back a bit, exhausted by saying that many words in such quick succession, casting some doubts on how well, exactly, he's going to be able to pretend he only has superficial injuries.

"That'd be ideal, yes. I'm just trying to prepare us."

Cedric fusses with the corpse for as long as he can stand to, managing a small supply. He'll begin the cooking attempt soon enough, but for now he wants to sit closeby and pretend to be less disgusted than he is.

He smiles weakly at Howard. "But you're the best. As for the acting..."

They had this conversation last night. Cedric knows he's not supposed to care, because it's dangerous. He also knows now that Howard doesn't want to be perceived to have any weaknesses. If Howard looks sick...

Bridge's face flashes in his mind. His face pales.

While Cedric works Howard mostly works on just breathing and trying to figure out the extent of his other injuries. Aside from his arm and the burns, he seems mostly fine. Seriously bruised, but no other broken bones as far as he can tell. The burns are painful, but that's a good sign. That means they aren't so deep as to kill the nerve endings entirely.

Before they get some rest he manages to get up and walk, mostly to make sure he can. He does, up the stairs and to a bedroom too, but he spends the whole trip hunched over like a little old man, and by the top of the stairs he's raking breath in like old leaves. He crawls into the lower half of a bunk bed and is asleep before he has a chance to protest Cedric tucking him in and fussing over him, bottle of 'monster juice' on the nightstand for immediate hydration.

Breathing's still a task, and it remains so after he falls asleep. The dragging, wheezing sound of it should tell Cedric throughout the night that he's still alive, at least, if not in good shape. Thankfully the night passes without any incident from monsters or allies. It's dark, and quiet, and if Cedric looks out the window the stars are so bright they hurt to look at. Benefit of a sky without pollution and a city without lights.

When Howard wakes up, it's because he's chilled. He's too dehydrated to sweat any, but his face is flushed and hot, and his migraine's returned to him with a vengeance. The burns are weeping slightly, clear fluid into the shirt sleeves. The plastic pocket on his side is goopy with coagulated blood and pus, but thankfully it hasn't choked off the air hole. He should probably just change the plastic.

He takes a drink from the bottle first thing. "Ced, you awake?"

Cedric hasn't been any better. Those ragged breaths have kept him awake all night---not because he can't sleep through noise, but because of what they mean. Howard's in trouble. He could be sick and need help at any time, and Cedric can't be asleep when that happens. The most he's managed is ten minute dozes.

Any longer, and something could happen to his friend. Loss of breathing. Monster attack. Attack from the others.

So he's red-eyed, pushing himself back upright and moving closer to Howard. "I don't think I ever fell asleep. What is it?"

Great. Cedric hasn't slept any, from the look of those bloodshot eyes, and Cedric's words confirm that suspicion. Despite knowing that it's probably been out of concern, this troubles and irritates Howard. Clearly the night passed by fine and now they're going to have to worry about Cedric hitting the upper limits of exhaustion today.

Howard gets up out of the bed and straightens up. Every motion is deliberate and fragile, like he's trying to recreate his usual casual swagger in slow motion. When he stands up he winces while the room shifts a little in his vision.

"Nothing. I'm breathing better. Just don't make me run anywhere." And that is, actually, the truth, even if he's not at a hundred percent or even anywhere close.

He wonders how bad he looks. Cedric's got a few bruises from the scuffle yesterday that Howard can see, courtesy of Cedric's new sleeveless style. Howard hasn't gotten a chance to look at a mirror, but he's betting he looks pretty awful too. Cedric might already be able to see that Howard's wounds are infected and swollen.

But at the same time, because of some combination of the desire to protect Cedric and some basic fear that Cedric will be scared and leave him if he sees how sick Howard is, he doesn't want to tell Cedric how dire the situation is getting. And while the wounds are infected and he's already suffering from fever, Bridge was apparently alive and coherent several days before Karis killed her, so maybe Howard can pretend he's just tired and injured for a while before Cedric knows.

"If you want to get some rest I can feed myself. We should probably work on getting off this planet as fast as possible, now we got food and drink." Code: let's get off this planet ASAP or I'm dead meat.

Cedric can't see very well, but he doesn't like what he does see at all. Howard needs help ASAP, preferably help from the ship's med bay. He quietly swears to himself that he will get Howard that help.

Or die trying, but let's not think about that right now, shall we?

"Agreed. You need to eat, and then we leave. Carefully." He really doesn't want to sleep, though. He's still afraid, and it's all over his face.

"We both need to eat," Howard corrects. "You're useless if you're exhausted and I can't eat a whole monster by myself, so let's not be stupid in the name of nobility, okay?"

That's as terse as he'll allow himself to be with Cedric right now. He can see the good intentions all over Cedric's face, but good intentions often run counter to practicality.

"Then I guess we head for the radio tower. Unless you got better idea. Please tell me you got better ideas."

"Right. Don't think I could forget," Cedric admits, tapping his abdomen. He's really not doing as well as he tries to be, but he needs to hold it together. Needs to get Howard out of there.

He hacks up some portions of the badly-cooked meat, passing them along and nibbling.

"We go there. That's where they said any signal would come...I think. If they can get it online. Maybe...maybe there's even a way to get our powers back there, like with the dampers on the ship."

Were Howard any other person, and if Cedric wasn't already aware of his habits, Howard would appear to be just any kid not thrilled with eating charred monster for breakfast. He nibbles and eats tiny bites, chewing slowly as if postponing swallowing as long as he can. He keeps working the meat between his fingers, tearing it up into tiny chunks more to have something to do that looks like eating without actually having to do so.

But it's Howard, and given that he's prone to gorging to the point of sickness, this is a major red flag that something's wrong. Howard squeezes his eyes shut and keeps covering his face, blocking out the daylight. His vision feels like a hollow tunnel, cramped on both sides by the migraine.

"I don't know much about electronics. Me and Diana found a something, but I don't know if it's what we need or how to use it." He nods over to his jacket, crumpled up on the bed. A lot of things have been stashed in his pant pockets or jacket. "If you got your powers back, could you communicate with the ship?"

Cedric does catch on. He's seen Howard stuff his face too many times to not be suspicious.

"I'd find a way, somehow. Making a large sound, or attracting attention some other way. Unfortunately, I never learned how to Apparate."

He sighs. That would've been even more useful. "But I will find something. We've gotta get out of here."

The worse Howard looks, the more Cedric worries. Something's really wrong, it must be.

Howard curls his upper lip. Wizard science education is pretty much a non-factor, isn't it? "Sound doesn't travel in space. Stacy's still in orbit."

At the very least Cedric has determination to spare. It doesn't fix problems but sometimes a little hope gets you to the point where you can see the solution.

"Karis might be our best bet. How are Maxine and Shorty going to handle having to work with her?"

Stay focused. Stay in the present and in the plans rather than thinking about how lightheaded he is and how badly he wants to vomit or pass out. He got enough sleep, and the infection shouldn't have spread this quickly, should it have? The only reason he'd be alright and then feel like crashing so fast would be blood poisoning.

...which is a distinct possibility.

"We need to get off this planet today. This morning, if we can."

"Absolutely."

Cedric would like to get off too---he's had brief snatches of sleep every now and then, and the night with Clef and Maxine has helped, but brains require sleep for a reason. And he knows he'll never sleep safely down here.

Not to mention Howard's problems, which Cedric sees for what they are: emergencies. He'll haul Howard out any way he has to.

"Look, I'll...I'll talk to everyone. They have to see that we all have the same need. We just need to do it quickly."

"Do you think they'll still be at the radio tower?" Howard closes his eyes and lets a chill sweep over him, along with a wave of nausea. "You should talk to them. I have a feeling they don't want to hear from me none. If we head over there I'll be quiet."

But he's adamant that they go together.

"Yeah, or nearby. They'd wait for me." Cedric's sure. He nods to himself. "Don't worry, I'll take care of it.

He stretches, preparing himself for the hike. He plans to stick close to Howard, just in case he needs to help a little more. But before they go...

"And I'll try to think of something the whole way. At the very least...if we broke the power suppressor, we wouldn't run out of water or food again."

That's a better idea than Howard's had all morning. "If it's a suppressor, we don't know where it is or what it looks like."

But having food and water would buy them some time. Maybe not Howard, although water at the very least could help clean up the infection some.

"It's worth a shot. I guess the radio tower is still our best bet. Karis and I tried the radio and it's still giving out a signal up there."

While Cedric stretches and packs up some of the fluid, Howard excuses himself to change the plastic on his side to something less horrendous and switch the sleeves around his burns to some clean strips of curtain. While he's out of sight his nausea gets the best of him. He spends a few minutes vomiting into the house owner's clothing drawer, shivering, and struggling to breathe.

When he returns he looks possibly even worse, despite the clean dressings. "Let's see if we can get a car. I don't know how far I can walk."

"Smash everything?" Cedric would really like that solution, but getting out as soon as possible precludes all.

He catches sight of Howard's state and doesn't like it. The situation's getting dire---they need that medbay, now. He nods shakily, heading out into the open.

"...you realise I don't know how to drive?"

"Works for me. And I know how to drive. Kind of." Those are the most encouraging words. Howard's driving knowledge is entirely self-taught. How scary is that?

He points a finger at Cedric's expression, that worry Cedric can't possibly keep under wraps. "Don't make that worried face at me, it freaks me out. I'm okay. I probably just caught a really badly-timed flu."

"Right," Cedric flattened his expression into an apologetic one, moving everything needed out toward the next car---if they could find one that worked. He always kept the tower in mind, though he looked in all directions for signs of monsters.

"What are the odds that we'll crash?"

"Very high." Is he joking or isn't he? Up to you to decide, Cedric.

Most of these cars are outdated from the ones Howard knows, so it takes a few to find one he can hotwire. There aren't any bodies on this street, so he can't scavenge off any for car keys. Finally, he settles in front of a Chevy and, picking up a large rock, tries to smash the driver's window in.

It doesn't work. The rock bounces off and Howard doubles over, having pushed his injured body a little too far on that forceful motion. "Dammit!"

It's beginning to really sink in how much he and Cedric are going to have to work as a team now. He's deteriorating quickly but he still has his wits about him, that knife-sharp survival instinct. Cedric has all the capability, though.

Cedric rushes to Howard's side, offering a hand whenever he's ready to stand up. "Okay. Don't worry, I'll try something bigger."

He searches for a bigger rock, one that'll pick up some nice speed as it's thrown, and steps back. "...On second thought, you may wan to duck."

That said, he lobs it as hard as he can.

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iselldrugstothecommunity - 2012-04-04 23:58 (UTC) - Expand

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theboywhodied - 2012-04-05 00:01 (UTC) - Expand

Survivalist Plot: All That Scarcity Promotes is Desperate Men and Tyrants

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oh yeah tagging while brushing my teeth

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