01.04.202X - Evacuation

 

Chapter 4: Evacuation

The banged-up Corolla pulled into the yard, gravel crunching underneath the tires.

The ride here had been... quiet. Not a soul in sight, and although Sayori could feel her paranoia mounting when the tarmac turned into dirt road and the streetlights were but a memory fading in the rear-view mirror, a reassuring squeeze from Kate was all it took to assuage those fears. Even there, when the only thing in sight was the headlights casting white light on the still-frosty ground, filtered through grimy plastic casing, even there she felt... safe.

Kate had managed to bandage her shoulder – thankfully it was little more than a deep scratch – and seemed to be generally good-humored, if a bit on edge – she'd been humming short melodies every now and then, casting glances in the rear-view mirror, occasionally reassuring Sayori that it's going to be a-okay and that my grandpappy's farm is too far away from town for those things to follow us, but despite that Sayori could tell that there was something there, behind the cool veneer, something she couldn't quite put her finger on.

"Well, we're here." Kate stated the obvious. "Lights are on, everybody's home – grandpa always turns off the porch light if he's off somewhere."

Sayori couldn't tell if the nurse was trying to reassure her, or if the words were intended for Kate herself – as far as she could tell, everything seemed abandoned. She shivered lightly, leaning on her crutch in the gravel-covered yard, gaze flitting between the lit-yet-still-empty windows, the oppressively dark forest to their left and Kate in turn, not knowing what to say to break the sudden silence that had descended upon them.

"I... think it seems like a.... like a nice place." Sayori said with as much conviction as she could manage. "Spacious y-yet comfortable."

Whatever kind of look Kate gave at her canned response, she couldn't discern – the porch light was too far away, and the constant wind made her shiver, and she couldn't shake the thought that the lights in the gas station were on as well.

Light didn't mean safety anymore. Light meant that you were a target. Teeming masses of moaning cannibals shambled behind them, practically nipping at their heels, banging on the doors and windows and waiting to tear them limb from limb...
In her imagination, anyway.
She suppressed another shudder – revulsion or cold, she didn't know – and took a look at Kate who was standing unnaturally still, at least when compared to how animated she usually was.

“Kate? Could we... could we go inside?”

That seemed to shake her from her reverie, but her voice was equally shaky.

“Y-yeah, we... probably should. I'm-” She cast a furtive glance over her shoulder at the white Toyota. “I need to grab something from the car. Give me a minute.”

A minute she was given, and a minute she took, and Sayori couldn't help noticing the aluminum bat hanging loosely in her right hand, or her determined, cold expression.

“Just wait outside for a moment, alright?” Kate started, her voice steely. “I'm sorry, I know it's cold, but... please just wait.”

And so, shoulders set, jaw locked, Kate quietly opened the – unlocked? How curious – door, shouldered her bat, and crept inside.

Sayori could imagine the meaty cracks and thunks, and a sobbing Kate kneeling on the floor amidst the blood and gore and the remains of her grandparents, or maybe she slipped and fell and I'll just hear the screams from when they tear her apart and then I'll have to hop in the car and get away and leave Kate but I don't know how to drive and my leg is still broken and...

The door opened on well-oiled hinges. Kate's voice was muted.

“Come inside.” Curt, dismissive. “It's empty.”

Warmth. Light. Four walls and a couch to lay down on. If her watch was any indication, the escape from the clinic and the gas statio journey here hadn't taken longer than an hour – an hour and a half, at most – but despite staying bedridden for the past few weeks Sayori felt like she could just lay down and sleep for a week.

Kate was sitting on the off-green couch, sinking into the pillows that she oh-so-desperately wanted to just melt into, but... Kate didn't seem all too well. She'd recognize that expression anywhere, bottled-up fear and uncertainty and anger, hidden beneath a veneer of false confidence and cheer.

That was her, most days. That was her, all of the time.

The turquoise-haired (she'd finally decided on it in the car, it was more of a bluish turquoise) woman sat stiff on the couch, her eyes so fixed on a piece of paper she was holding, silently mouthing words to herself over and over, that she didn't even notice Sayori finally slipping her shoes off and tiptoeing towards her, didn't notice Sayori carefully taking her place on the couch beside her.

Or pretended not to, anyway – it was hard to tell.

The silence was heavy, suffusing, awkward. What little lame attempts at conversation Sayori thought up died before they'd so much as reached her vocal cords.

Seconds passed, minutes passed. Kate's eyes were like steel.

“K... Kate? What's tha-”

“They fucking left. The staff I can deal with, but... grandpa.” In an instant, her eyes turned from steely and hard to hopeless and desperate, and her voice followed suit. “Why?”

“I... I'm sor-”

“Shut the fuck up. That's all you ever say.” There were tears in Kate's eyes now, but I am sorry and I want to make you feel better and- “I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Christ, give me a fucking break.”

She crumpled the paper into a ball, cursing under her breath, and tossed it at a framed picture of a couple, the faded black-and-white of the photo betraying its age better than any text or subtitle ever could.

Sayori pulled away, looked away, tucked her one good leg to her chest, tried her best to blink away the tears that had come out of nowhere.

But she was sorry. She really, really was.

I didn't mean it like that.

I want to help somehow, but...

I don't know how to help.

I don't know anything.

The only things that came to mind were further apologies, so she sat there and tried her best to make herself as invisible as possible. To let Kate be alone, for a moment, without her stupid crying and her stupid broken leg and her...

She wasn't ready for the pair of arms embracing her from behind. She was even less ready for the feeling of warm tears staining the back of her “I <3 KY” t-shirt, and the quiet sobbing, and the utter helplessness in Kate's voice.

“I'm... sorry...” Kate sniffled, burying her face into Sayori's back. “I... s-shouldn't have said that, I d-didn't mean it, I'm just... tired. O-of all this shit.”

They sat there for a moment, Sayori lamely clasping Kate's hand, massaging her palm so maybe the hurt would go away soon, feeling the sobs gradually subside, until Kate was just softly breathing into her neck.

I probably smell terrible.

Disinfectant and chlorine and dead skin and blood.

I should have taken a shower or something.

I should have taken better care of myself.

“Kate?” A muffled hum. “Can I, uh, turn around?”

Another muffled hum, a pair of arms linked around her back, the smell of sweat and blood and grime and fresh linens and perfume.

Chanel no. 5? Sandalwood?

I don't know – I can't afford those.

Maybe I should have done some research?

I probably have terrible taste in fragrances anyway.

 

The paper that had stolen Kate's attention now laid in a crumpled mess on the oak coffee table, flanked by fruit bowls and TV remotes and framed photos and memories of a life long lost. If she could have read it, Sayori might have understood everything a bit better. As it stood, however, her thoughts were somewhere far away, the paper now but a hastily-forgotten memory.

She'd read it later.

“Hey Katie,

I'm sorry.
We had to leave.
We're taking the truck and heading out of Knox, probably down south, maybe Tennessee.
Gramps is sick, he keeps coughing.
We can't stay here, not with this disease spreading.
I tried to call you but the lines are overloaded, we're barely getting any signal.
If you find this, please come with us.
All my love,

                    -Mom”