akbartheolder:
¯\_(ツ)_/¯
“Mandem was injured when he washed up on shore, yeah. Yaz had been looking after him. Unconscious. The injury turned bad in the trip through the tunnels and the doctors amputated. A bloody miracle he stayed alive…” Emre, keeping the bitterness out of his tone. But if Damien had died in the tunnels, that would’ve been the real miracle.
“Calls himself Damien. I dunno nothing more about him,” Emre lied, but he wasn’t going to spill Maura’s secrets. Instead, he turned Clementine’s focus elsewhere by saying, “Some people show up on Meridium injured or dead, innit. Nellz - Hazel’s sister. She had a sister, didn’t she. Did sister die here?”
Emre shook his head about gathering materials. “This new baby farm’s got all sorts of volunteers who want to help with the tame side of things innit. Tomas can handle all that. He’ll delegate until people get tired of taking orders from him and walk off the job, lazy sods. But I reckon by then he’ll get what he needs, then we’ll help, yeah?” His smile was sleek as he gazed at Clemetine.
“Don’t need your jungle know-how, luv. I need your security know-how. How do we protect the food stores after harvest. Something that don’t require guard patrol 24 hours a day, yeah. And we don’t got no chains and padlocks or chicken wire on hand, do we. I want protection and traps and…erm…what’s what thing called?” Emre racked his brain. “Deterrents, innit.”
North Beach was gone, and in Emre’s opinion, everything that came with it. Including all those old, tired beefs between this faction and that faction. He didn’t care. This was South Beach, an opportunity to build from scratch, including relationships. Clem’s old squabbles was insignificant, to Emre.
Instead, he pin-pointed on Clementine’s self-deprecation. He knew she had experience surviving in the jungle, he knew she was a bodyguard. There was more? “What’re you on about then? What other skills?”
( ◡̀_◡́)ᕤ
“Oh, I see.” And she did, her fingers straying to the mark of her own arrival. A little lower and Clementine would have found herself leaning on the mercy of other survivors, too. “Your brother is hell of a doctor then,” she says, a little relieved to know he isn’t someone of her acquaintance.
She winces. “Her sister was gone when we found them. I never asked whether it occurred on arrival or beforehand. It seems like she does better without bringing it up,” she points out, softly, a slight warning to her tone. Asking her is a mistake Clementine won’t allow if it means dragging up memories of Hazel’s worst moments.
It’s nice to know they aren’t back at square one when it comes to farm things. Clementine exhales with relief, nodding, and then at once snorts. “If they know what’s best for them, they’ll follow orders for a while yet until we get things settled. Or until he becomes a real ass, whichever comes first.” She hasn’t forgiven the way he yelled at her like a child their first meeting.
But such thoughts are distracted when he lists off the things he wants for the farm. She frowns, puzzling through the pieces of this puzzle. “Guards 24/7 are the most foolproof method of keeping things safe, but if you don’t want that, something a little sneakier might be required. Traps, yeah, if we can figure out how to get a few of them that we can put together and put aside again when we need to walk over them.” Permanent traps seem like a liability to anyone on the farm who stumbles into them on accident.
She paces, thinking about their options. “Lights are an easy deterrent. Not many people are reckless enough to steal unless it’s dark. Maybe some sort of alarm system, like stumble across a... I don’t know, but it tugs the line and rings some coconuts.”
His question brings her to a stop before she waves her hand. “Oh, nothing important. I meant I have a masters in marine biology. Not really useful unless you want to toss me into the ocean here.” A pause, and her head tilts. “Though I haven’t put it to much use. We didn’t see the ocean a lot in the Labyrinth. So, yes, not useful right now.”
