ANOTHER tally mark etched into the wall for a grand total of ONE THOUSAND ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY TWO days. That count his eyes gazed over could only be trusted if their otherwise scattered minds could be held accountable. The bunker was in something beyond a state of disarray. Marks etched aggressively into the walls to form what both knew to be a calendar but to perhaps an adventurer in the distant future might appear more as a CAVE DRAWING, the rest of the walls held stories of their own. Guidelines on one wall, ramblings from both parties on several others. Papers littered the floor, mostly from his own bouts of madness, but Aurora had never been one to shy away from her own moments of stir-crazy RAGE. It was a routine, one descended into a fallen madness and the other quickly joined in with their own strange behaviors and shattered semblances of self.
Like Father, like daughter. This particular night or morning, they had no way of knowing, had been especially DAUNTING. The darkened circles under Aurora’s eyes likely rivaled that of his own, bruise-colored to reflect how little sleep both had gotten in the last week. Or, what he could assume was a week. The lack of structured time had truly gotten to Joseph, as had the recent command of God. All of it combined into a heavy weight against his chest, threatening to collapse the cavity until he remained no more. Again, he had awoken from a dream. At first, he’d thought it to be a NIGHTMARE when a younger form of his once young brother had wrapped his hands around Joseph’s throat, squeezing tightly, but now he felt it might have been more a dream. DEATH would have been preferred over this. Finally, he spoke, his voice hoarse from screaming, “We must, Aurora.” His eyes met hers, but his gaze wandered to the healed tattoo she’d received years prior. WRATH.
He swallowed hard at the mere thought of his long deceased brother. God had forced his hand and in doing so, he’d forgiven Aurora for her sinful path, which involved the murders of his siblings. After all, whatever was once left of the deputy’s family had perished. For all they knew, it was just them. A new family. “For it may be God’s will that we leave after SEVEN YEARS but alas, we will not survive that long. He has instructed that we travel through the holy chaos to Holland and there we will wait.” To John’s bunker, but he couldn’t just say JOHN SEED. “We can. I know we can.” He reached a pale hand to her. Their supplies were bare and they had already rationed.
@ofwerewolfheart + A flashback thread, ‘The Bunker’