02.04.202X - Street Prowl

Street Prowl

“You ever had, uh, Kentucky Derby pie?”

Kate called out to her from behind the counter, metal clattering on porcelain as she busied herself with whatever she was doing. Truth be told, Sayori felt too exhausted to care, and despite the hunger that had stayed with her since she first woke up, she didn't know if she could stomach even a single bite of anything, let alone some weird regional stuff she'd never heard of before.

“No, I... I haven't.”

Still, no matter how bad she felt, she couldn't take it out on Katie. Not now, not again. The offer seemed genuine, friendly – that much was evident from her tone, equal parts hopeful and nervous. And so, after a moment, Sayori broke the silence between them again – not because she wanted to, but because not doing so would have felt even worse.

“...guess I haven't really had the chance yet. I've... I've kinda been meaning to, but...”

“Well, I guess today's your lucky day, then.”

Katie emerged from behind the counter, a plate in each hand,

“Would have asked you if you had a nut allergy, but then I remembered the peanut bowl thing, and... yeah.”

Her smile, while still kind, turned slightly impish.

“I... honestly don't know how you managed the entire thing. We used to joke about health and safety slapping a gum disease warning on the side of the bowl. Heh.”

Not letting the remark so much as sink in, she stopped in front of their table, cheap ceramic clinking against lacquered wood as the plates found their homes. It was brown, whatever it was, brown and – most likely – very sweet, the familiar scent of syrup, sugar and butter joined by something a little more unfamiliar, a strange mixture of vanilla and cherries and something more spicy, something she couldn't quite put her finger on.

Still, Katie seemed as proud as anyone, smile playing on her face as she tucked in, and Sayori decided to stop staring and follow her example, even if it was more for politeness' sake than anything else. She cut a small piece off with the edge of her fork, and had it not been for the painfully-obvious moss green eyes following her every move, she would have studied the morsel just a little while longer. 

So, instead, she bit down.

It was rich and sweet, rough in texture – it took a moment for her to register the slight resistance as chopped pecans. Then, chocolate and vanilla and again, that strange, smoky mixture, the one she couldn't quite pin down, the one that started feeling more and more familiar as she chewed on, a thoughtful look on her face, eyes lost in the storm outside.

 

Not bad. A bit rich for my taste, maybe? Tastes unfamiliar, all the same – I don't really eat nuts that often. Not these kinds, anyway. Maybe the girls would have liked it more than me? Maybe you could bake this into a cupcake, and-

 

“So! Um, d'ya... what do you think?”

Kate was eyeing her expectantly, finally catching the girl's attention – it took a moment for her to register that the woman hadn't taken her eyes off her yet.

“Oh, I... I mean, it's good, but, ah, maybe a... bit rich?”

Her sentence awkwardly tapering off, she quickly took another bite, sugar and spice greeting her taste buds again. She set her fork aside, swallowed, coughed a bit, then tried her best to reassure her friend, as best she could.

“It's still... it's really good, I just... I guess I don't really eat nuts. That often.”

“Oh, right, yeah. I mean, I hadn't really... thought about that, but, um...”

“It's good, though. Really good. What's... what's in it?”

A thoughtful look crossed Katie's face, her gaze joining Sayori's, lost in the storm outside the window. Suddenly it felt much easier to breathe.

“Uh, well, I guess... nuts? These guys use pecan, but I've had it with walnuts as well, and some people kinda mix...”

Katie shook her head.

“Anyway! There's... that, and then sugar and eggs and butter and... stuff. Oh, and vanilla. Real vanilla is the best, but extract works too.”

“Butter and... stuff? What's the stuff?”

Her explanation felt... lopsided. Maybe a bit unbalanced. Silly?

Good enough to coax a tired smile from Sayori, despite everything. 

 

Silly.

 

“I 'unno. Never made it myself, just like eating it, you know? It is kind of a... you know. Tradition. 'A Kentucky classic.' Source of regional pride, or... or something like that.”

“Huh. What makes it so, um, Kentuckese? Is it... just common here? Or...”

“Well, one, it's not 'Kentuckese'. Two, it's probably the bourbon that makes it special.”

Kate waved a pair of accusatory fingers in the air, flashing a look of mock annoyance.

“Bourbon's kinda... our thing, not that I'm much of a fan. Never read the label on a bottle of Jim Beam?”

“I... can't say I have.”

The pie definitely went down faster with a bit of small talk, and now the vaguely familiar cocktail of smells and tastes finally had a name she could remember.

 

Bourbon, huh? Dad got a bottle as a gift once – always thought it smelled like turpentine. Didn't taste anything like this.

“I'm not... um. Much of a... drinker. I don't... I'm not a big fan of the nausea. And nobody sells it if you're under twenty.”

“It's twenty-one here, but when has that ever stopped anyone?”

“Um...”

“Come on. You never sneak outside with your friends and a stolen bottle of something terrible? Do stupid shit and get into trouble?”

She sounded equal parts amused and surprised, but it was hard to tell if the shock was genuine, or if Katie was just trying to goad her on. Either way, there wasn't much she could reply with – at least, not if she wanted to stay honest.

But why was that? Maybe it was just a memory thing. She had funny stories up her sleeve – too many to count, even. They were just hard to remember sometimes. It wasn't the first time, no, but her memories had never been this stubborn before. Try as she might, she drew blank after blank, her memories all too hazy to recall.

Frowning, she buried the thought and shook her head.

“Um... not really anything worth writing down. I guess... it's not really my, uh... thing.”

Yuri and her wine bottle. And Sayori the party pooper.

She gave an embarrassed smile, eyes in her lap, a warmth in her cheeks. Hadn't she told Katie about it already? If not, then she must have come off as a total loser to her – it was hard to imagine how different Katie's school days had been.

“Oh.”

They sat in awkward silence for a moment, each finishing off their slice of pie, one of them realizing she couldn't recall any amusing stories.

“I, uh, I mean – it's not like underage drinking is really... it's not all that, honestly. There's better ways to spend your time, just... you know. Young and stupid, and all that. I didn't really, uh...”

Katie cleared her throat and looked away, and Sayori was surprised to see the faintest hint of embarrassed red gracing her cheekbones as well. Her voice was suddenly far more muted than usual.

“I... didn't really understand that, not... not until later. There was a lot of stuff I didn't figure out before I, uh, got a bit older, I guess.”

She hazarded a nervous smile, a playful twinkle in her narrowed eyes.

“It's good to see you've at least, uh, got your head screwed on right. You're a lot smarter than I was back then.”

“Yeah, I g-guess...”

 

End my life. Please.

“Do you really think they'll hold? The bags?”

“Yeah! We'll be out of the rain soon, anyway!”

Shuddering from the cold and the wind, Sayori trudged through the rain, hunched over, hands in her pockets.

Maybe she was being careless. No, she definitely was.

Still, the town had proved practically empty, hadn't it? What more was there to worry about?

They were almost done. On the last stretch. Home free.

Almost safe.

 

A spark of annoyance shot through her body, and she cast a spiteful glance over her shoulder. She was doing it again. Blinding herself with hopes and prayers, soothing herself with poisonous reassurances. They were not safe, not yet, and Lady Luck had a habit of disappearing when she was needed the most.

Eyes darting from side to side, she adjusted the straps on her backpack, and sank into a painful crouch. She let out a hiss – the break they'd enjoyed in the café proved as insufficient as she had feared. Her thighs still burned with exertion, pain pierced through her soles with every step, and soon her calves joined the chorus and erupted into cramps.

A familiar sweat had broken out – whether from the exertion or the pain, she didn't know. Or care. Caring was beyond her abilities at the moment. Caring was something she could do when she didn't have sweat burning in her eyes. Caring was non-essential.

With a grimace, she straightened her leg as her calf cramped up again. This was sad. Maybe she could work out with Katie if she asked nicely. Maybe she could train, or something. Get stronger. Maybe she could stop being useless if she did. Maybe-

 

Katie stopped and straightened, casting a glance over her shoulder, and Sayori's heart sank just as another door swung open. The outside was off-putting, squat and square and industrial, like an old warehouse forced to live through another coat of poorly-chosen paint, and the inside seemed equally dusty and run-down.

“...We still need some hardware. Sorry. Won't take long.”

With that, they were inside again, the floor of the rural supply greeting Sayori with a soft creak. There were various complicated tools and implements piled on shelves and leaning against walls, heavy-duty plastic bags piled on wooden pallets, and a trio of shoddy clothing racks standing guard in front of a heavy metal shutter. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she spied a pair of heavy-duty lockers, faintly visible through the slotted steel in the corner of the room.

Katie hurried off on her own after flashing a tired smile, a stained shopping list in her right hand, her backpack soon meeting the ground with a muffled thud. The bat soon followed, with a clang that echoed through the dusty air.

 

Sayori swallowed her frustration. There wasn't any point in being a bitch about it. It wouldn't take long, either way, and right now she just needed something to occupy her mind, to distract her from her gnawing unease. Katie seemed quite comfortable working alone, and she wasn't about to butt in if she wasn't needed.

 

Turn that frown upside down. Fold your face in on itself. Like origami.

The backpack met the floor with another thud, and Sayori soon followed, sitting with her back against the rough concrete wall and her legs fully stretched out, breathing, waiting, the crutch in her lap like a crying child or a gun in a war movie. Everything hurt. She had half a mind to get up, maybe poke around a little, maybe even find something for herself, or for Katie, or both of them, or...

Or what? A souvenir you can take home? A gift for the girls? Don't be ridiculous.

She looked around, taking heavy breaths, her shoulders aching.

Here you go, Monika, I brought you a genuine, American, bag of... fertilizer.

No, maybe not. She tried to stand up, a bit halfheartedly, and slumped back down again when her legs began screaming for mercy. 

 

Fine. Whatever.

Here you go, Firstname, I brought you a bespoke, freshly-picked – Sayori narrowed her eyes – hedge trimmer?

Did any of them even have hedges? Maybe Monika did, her house was apparently pretty nice, but... No. She sighed. 

 

That's not it.

An organic, free-range... camping stove?

 

She let out a short, tired giggle. 

 

A gigglet, perhaps?

Camping stoves seemed to belong to a certain category among gifts. The it's-cool-and-I'll-convince-myself-how-useful-it-is-and-forget-about-it's-existence-in-three-months-and-feel-really-guilty-when-I-rediscover-it-during-spring-cleaning category. Like roller skates and fishing poles.

Or, well, fishing poles weren't really cool, were they? Maybe you had to be a dad to understand, or something.

She wasn't. So, she didn't.

But it would have been nice to bring something back. Something small, a memento, something with a story to tell. Something important and precious.

Exhale.

 

Even if going back home was a pipe dream at best. Even if she didn't have the faintest idea of how one singular object could somehow encapsulate all of that. Even if – and now her mood darkened again – she hadn't heard anything from them, no calls, no messages, no nothing. They could at least text her, or something, ask her if she was doing alright, if she was safe, but no, that was too much of a hassle, it seemed.

...But the cell towers were down, weren't they? Even if they'd tried to reach her as soon as the news broke, even if her voicemail and her inbox were full of anguished voices begging to hear from her again, she'd never know.

Her breath hitched in her throat.

Not from the sudden downturn into despair, but from something external, something physical. Thick as the walls were, the howling wind and pitter-patter of raindrops still made their way inside – or should have. But the rain had stopped, their companion falling silent, making way for a new voice to join the choir.

One voice. Two voices. Three, four, too many to make out, and now her adrenal gland fired up once again – tired, spent, yet doing its best. 

 

One more round. Just one more. One more step – it's always just one more step. Get up. Pain is good, pain doesn't matter, pain just means you still have your legs.

Katie.

“Katie?” Sayori whispered, uncertain and shaky. “Where are y-”

A familiar hand popped up just a couple meters away, waving at her from behind a dusty steel shelf. She took fast, rolling steps, the vulcanized rubber meeting the floor with a soft tap-tap-tap.

Diving in between the shelves, ducking next to a familiar Katie – the only one she had – she cast a quick glance through the rain-streaked windows as best she could. It didn't seem that bad, on second thought – they were just milling about, bumping into cars and signposts and each other. No organized chase, no deluge of grotesquely misshapen people, just the wrong place at the wrong time. But...

 

“The exit, do we... s-should we just wait them out?” Waiting was the last thing she wanted to do. 

 

Stuck inside some shitty old warehouse smack dab in the middle of bum-fuck nowhere, like a noose tightening around-

 

“...No, we...” Katie's voice was shaky and strained, jaw set and eyes wide open. “...We should... probably...”

“Katie?”

“M-maybe we could... Christ, there's a lot of them...” 

 

She ducked back down, staring at the floor, nervously rubbing her thumb against the aluminum bat. Katie seemed smaller than usual, somehow – deflated, perhaps? After a moment's silence she spoke again, her voice even, measured, and uncharacteristically small.

 

“We can't fight our way out... we can't.” She shook her head and sighed. “Maybe, if... if there's a back door, or something, we c-could use that. It's just...”

“Y-yeah, like a fire escape? Em-emergency exit?” The spark of hope Sayori felt was nakedly obvious when she spoke, casting glances towards the back of the building.

“Yeah.” Katie nodded. “...It's just...”

“W-what are we waiting for? Let's... go, let's...” She took a tentative step, and Katie's hand shot out, grabbing her by a rain-soaked sleeve.

“Wait. I'm gonna explain this as quickly as possible. I'm pretty sure there's a back door, no, I know there's a back door, but it's meant for emergencies.” Katie took a deep breath, casting a worried glance over her shoulder. “If we open it, it's gonna trip the fire alarm here, and we don't know if there's anything in the parking lot.”

“O-oh...”

“I don't... I don't think we have any other options, b-but...” She took a deep breath, and now her eyes were normal again, normal and so very tired, and she stared into Sayori's eyes, indescribably afraid. “...When that alarm goes off, every single bastard in town is going to make a beeline straight for us. Okay?”

“O-okay...” She nodded, locked in place, unable to look away.

“S-so when we're outside, we have to run. We don't look back, we don't stop, we keep going, okay?”

“Okay.”

“A-and if one of us...” Katie swallowed, her voice turning thick. “Whoever gets to the car starts it. The keys are in the ignition. I-if... one of us fucks up, if... something... happens, then... we keep running.”

 

No. We don't. Don't leave me. Please.

 

“Okay?”

“L-let's do our best...” Sayori gave a brief, forced smile, finally evading Katie's gaze.

The nurse didn't seem humored, instead shaking Sayori by her shoulder and raising her voice, her expression growing bitter and stern.

 

“Sayori, look at me. We. Keep. Running. Okay?”

“W-we... I...” She's right. As long as one of us makes it. “O-”

Katie yelped as the window shattered into a thousand pieces, shards of glass tinkling softly as they fell onto the floor, followed by the dull thunk of something large, heavy and soft doing the same. Sayori's breath caught in her throat as a familiar chorus of moaning voices made itself known, and with a final glance through the now-broken window, she took off after Katie, softly whimpering under her breath.

This wasn't fucking fair.

They'd made their presence known, that much was certain – the broken window was teeming with activity, arms reaching in past the shattered glass, bodies pressed against the wall, trying to force themselves inside. The ruined little opening was barely large enough to fit one at a time, let alone three or four trying to mindlessly ram their way inside.

“Shit. Shit, shit, shit-”

Passing the shelves and the strange, barred room to her right, Sayori was mere meters away from Katie, the nurse rushing onward, her left shoulder pointing towards an unassuming gray plywood door. If she'd had the time, Sayori would likely have marveled at how indefatigable her friend seemed, but the door was wide open in less than a second, slamming open with a sharp crack and a faint shower of moisture-damaged wood chips, Katie's turquoise hair waving ever-so-slightly as she came to a brief halt.

Now Sayori was inside the little... maybe it was a storage room? She thought, almost wanting to ask and cursing herself for it the very same moment the thought crossed her mind.

Focus. It's just a room. It's not important. It doesn't matter. It-

The greedy breath she took felt like a mistake. She'd never tasted air before, but whatever they'd stumbled upon smelled so rank it was as if the air itself had a texture. She ignored the overwhelming urge to cough – if she so much as cleared her throat the contents of her stomach would be sure to follow, spraying the concrete with bits of pecan and lemon soda.

So, she didn't look around.

...Or not very much, at least.

Of course there was a body there. Long dead, judging by the smell, and a suicide, judging by the splotches on the wall.

“K-Katie-”

She regretted her choice the moment her mouth opened, the miasmatic cocktail of rotten meat, coppery blood and something she could only describe as raw sewage making her retch. Katie's response was hurried, staccato-like, her hand already reaching for the door handle, the stainless steel shining a vague green from the backlit emergency exit sign.

 

“It's dead. Don't look. Just breathe and get ready. We run.”

“No, but... I...”

He – was it even a he? She couldn't tell, not in this light – had shot himself? Right? Maybe...

The barn. The shotgun. Maybe-

Holding her breath, taking panicked little steps, she approached the cadaver slumped against the wall, bending down to take a closer look. She'd likely regret this later.

 

Just add it to the list.

 

His – and it was decidedly a male – skull had ruptured completely, like a watermelon or an eggshell with the top taken off, the ruined remains of his jaw littered with small, yellowish fragments that she somehow recognized as pieces of teeth. His flannel shirt was equal parts threadbare and crusted with blood, and the closer she got the harder it was to ignore the stench of human excrement.

“Sayori! Stop fucking around, let's go!”

“Y-yeah... I- hurk.”

The weapon was still in his hands, almost like he'd cradled it during his last moments, held onto it for comfort, and Sayori felt a familiar sting in her heart.

Focus. Think later. Start doing.

 

Grabbing the barrel with both hands, she pulled as hard as she could, bracing a foot against the body, fully expecting rigor mortis to foil her attempt.

 

She must have looked quite stupid, tumbling over backwards as she did, landing on her behind, the stock of the shotgun whipping around and smacking her in the teeth. Her vision went black, small white pinpricks swirling in the darkness, a greasy, metallic taste filling her mouth, and if she'd had any time to process what had happened she'd likely started crying.

But there was no time. A pair of hands closed around her armpits, wrenching her to her feet with a lot more force than necessary, and while the white dots hadn't gone anywhere, she could at least see again. The look Katie gave her, however, almost made blindness feel preferable.

 

“Are. You. Done. Fucking. Around.”

“Y-” Katie was livid.

“At least the fucking thing didn't go off. They know we're here, you don't have to ring a fucking dinner bell for them.” Katie huffed, turned on her heels and grit her teeth, the emergency exit flying open, followed by the ear-splitting noise of the fire alarm

“I'm-” ...sorry.

“We'll talk later! Come on!”

 

But she was sorry. Wasn't this useful? Didn't they...

 

Katie was already almost ten meters ahead of her, and so – Sayori stopped thinking again.

Sayori willed her useless, exhausted, stupid muscles to work again.

And Sayori huffed and puffed and hissed in pain as her battered soles beat the asphalt again and again and again...

...At least the backside was clear. Maybe they could pass by the group in front somehow, slip away unseen while they were distracted. 

 

Saved by the bell, literally.

She almost smiled.

Almost.

Unsure of how to hold the weapon – heavy as it was – she cradled it close to her chest, to stop it from clanking and swinging around, or catching on branches.

And it was a bit reassuring, even – as long as she didn't think too much about it.

As long as she ignored the fact that this was the second time in her life she'd held a weapon, ignored the fact that she'd never so much as fired one, that she didn't even know if there were... shots in there, or whatever, or even how she was supposed to make it ready to... shoot.

As long as she didn't think about it.

Sadly, she had never been good at not thinking.

Good job, Takahashi. You fucked up again. Katie was right – what if you'd pulled the trigger by accident? The entire town would have come for us, and it would have been your fault. Again. Why can't you keep your hands to yourself instead of poking your fingers everywhere like a kid in a candy shop?

If Katie dies, if something happens to her, then you know who's fault it is. You just doomed us both, you fucking hero.

The fucking trigger.

Thank God it didn't go off. It's not that bad. Maybe they'll just go for the bell instead.

What if you'd hit Katie with the blast?

That same old familiar, horrible voice in her head finally made her blood run cold. This wasn't the annoyed, itchy warmth she felt every time she messed up, no, this was worse, much worse so much fucking worse oh God-

Some thanks. She saves your life ten times over and you repay her with a stomach full of lead. No fucking wonder nobody cares about what you want. Do you even qualify as human anymore?

The crunch-crunch-crunch of her boots on gravel rang a bell in her head, but she couldn't hold on to any one of her thoughts – they came and went at blistering speeds, unpleasant, cringe-worthy memories, harsh words from years ago, and God please stop I want this to stop-

Are.     You.     Done.     Fucking.     Up.

The car was in sight – whimpering with every breath from the pain and humiliation and sheer unfairness of it all, she kept running, her vision blurry with tears, her upper front teeth slick with blood, nerves screaming in pain. But... Katie. Where was she?

In the distance, the white Corolla rumbled to life, the lights on the back flaring an angry red, as if to say that she wasn't welcome there. 

 

No entry.

Maybe Katie could just... go. 

The... things, they were following her, they had to be, but she didn't dare to even cast a glance over her shoulder – if she tripped, if she fell, if the shotgun clattered onto the gravel-covered asphalt, then... 

...She wasn't sure if she'd even see the point in getting back up.

 

I saw the fucking messages.

Fifty meters. Was the car moving?

You always act so nice and innocent and clueless, but in reality you're a rotten, backstabbing whore.

The straps were digging into her shoulders, bruising and scraping what meager muscle she still had left.          

I'm never going to forgive you, do you understand?

Maybe they'd start drawing blood soon.

Do you know what it feels like to bury your own little sister?
Because I do.

She'd deserve it.

All thanks to you.

Maybe if she bled enough she could be good again.

Come on, like, don't be such a bitch about this...

There had to be justice, after all.

I'm letting you stay here from the sheer goodness of my heart, you know?

And if she kept hurting people and fucking up and making mistakes, then...  

 It's just the tip,
it's not gonna hurt,
I promise.

Then she had to bleed.

It's the least you could do for me, you know?

Sayori sat down in the passenger seat, closing the door behind her, and curled up into a ball. As the engine rumbled to life, with Katie's steely gaze pointed somewhere far away and the radio playing more of whatever she usually listened to, the girl leaned the shotgun against the glove box, squeezed her eyes shut, and tried really,

     really,

            really hard

                              to not cry.

            For once.