As the day comes to a close, Thomas takes the time to register how he’s feeling. Physically, there’s the ache of the body. He’s sore from carrying crates back and forth, particularly with how his shoulders are burning. After that had come training. While he’s able to use a gun, a pistol at least, it doesn’t sit right in his hands. It doesn’t hold itself properly to the curve of his palm the way a bow would.
He’d tried. Misfired, once, but hadn’t hit anyone (thank God, that’s the last thing they’d need right now) and had promptly decided afterwards that his day was done. So, tired and a little prickly, he’d started the trudge back to the hotel room he has to share with Zaheer. He doesn’t know why he thought it would be different. Of course they’d be stuck together. He doesn’t know of any other former Purged here, and the way people have been staring says enough to know that they’re not welcome.
In the time between digging Zaheer up, rescuing him, and running, he’d thought Zaheer had been quieter. He can’t recall the man ever being this chatty, but when he closes the door behind him the doctor is already talking. Thomas turns his head to look at him. “So you told a man who’d just been shot that he was sinful, and then told him that God hates him… and then you were surprised that he punched you?” It’s not that he disagrees with Zaheer’s sentiment. He does. “I’d have hit you for less, if I were a sinner. I’d hit you now, actually, but he beat me to it. You couldn’t just tell him we don’t have it from the start?”
Thomas scoffs and shucks his jacket off, tossing it to the side. Then, he crosses the room, and pries the ice-pack away from Zaheer’s hands. It’s melted, significantly, since it’s been used as a stress-ball. “Training went fine,” he lies. “I think they’re going to be giving us the ten-foot radius for a while, though.” He doesn’t dislike the idea, honestly. Better for everyone if they keep their distance. “I’d prefer it if we didn’t stay here long, though. These people are bizarre.”
Zaheer scowled at Thomas’s less-than-understanding attitude. In a voice little louder than a grumble, he explained, “Because he shouldn’t want the anesthesia to begin with. He needs to learn to embrace his pain. It’s sinful even to want reprieve — you know this as well as I do.”
It wasn’t that he thought he could convert the people of Idaho Falls. He knew that they were well past redemption. But how could he ignore their behavior? It felt tantamount to abandoning his beliefs, his God. And whatever the other Virtues and the Oracle believed, he was not so far gone. He still loved God. He still loved them.
“Hmph.” He had to agree with Thomas; he didn’t think that the people in this town would be accepting of them anytime soon. But it wasn’t their acceptance he craved, so he didn’t let it bother him. Mostly. He got off the bed and to his feet, scratching at his beard as he considered the rest of that statement.
“And where else would we go, Thomas? I mean, what if...what if this is it?” He dropped his hand, where it clasped with his other one, fingers fidgeting restlessly. “What if everyone is just as strange and sinful as the people here? What if the Purged were the only sane people and we’ve —”
He shook his head. It was a fruitless train of thought. They couldn’t go back, either of them, thanks to him. Still, it kept him awake late into the night. “We should stockpile our supplies, at least. If we do decide to leave and face the unknown again, I would like to avoid freezing or starving to death, wouldn’t you?”
stormborns
tangentwithtanner
titsay
gummygunk
janainaart
snowghoul
ellievsbear
annaxmalina