@sydncyfitzpatrick
location: makeshift shelter date: March 13th; early hours.
Grueling hours spent liaising with those clearing the highway and those sweeping what was left within reach inside the town borders felt like grinding teeth, endlessly until there was little left other than the dull and aching reminder that there was nothing left. Transports for the injured had crossed over into Charlotte and with each and every person received on the other end of such an evacuation, Jackson had thought an easier breath might have been awaiting them on the horizon. But, there was yet one more thing he had to do. The high rise of panic and concern that had underlined Claire’s voice when she’d told him about the foster kid. - caught up within the foundations of his own home while his parents were here, within the shelter, relegated by authorities not to go back. Another sweep of the streets too dangerous to even those trained to do exactly that. He might have swallowed back bile for the thought of anyone, let alone a child being out there on their own in the front of the storm that now awaited. Time had never been on their side, but now, now it didn’t exist. The order already set in motion to move everyone left, into the buses and en-route to Charlotte. No exceptions. No going back. Outside, the deafening cacophony of the storm raging was nothing to settle his mind, his decision already beyond made, a promise to Claire that he’d bring the kid back before the last bus rolled out. Details relayed about the home, the case -- the kid itself, didn’t make anything feel easier when he’d found out there might be some immediate distrust simply because he was a man, but after so many years, he wasn’t surprised. It simply offered itself as an obstacle he’d have to work his way around when he got there. The other option simply didn’t offer itself as one, not to Jackson, at least. Never quite one to lay claim to any sense of a hero complex, he just didn’t see the waste in endangering anyone else when the window of time that remained, became almost non-existent as Selene closed in on their town. “Sweep the shelter when everyone’s loaded up and get your ass on the tail end of those buses out of here, Syd.” An order that fell far more harshly than so many before as he slung his pack across his shoulder, already headed for the exit with no intention of stopping. After spending far too many years being the last line of possibility, the last call made, it was simply instilled within his bones, within the genetic makeup of a man who was the last resort, “Don’t let them stop for anything.” The underlying order that nobody wait for him, was unspoken in the loudest breath of silence as he awaited a verbal understanding.