Meridian | The Second Life III [COMPLETED]

7 - Hunefer

- R O N N I E -

A bounty, huh?

When I had the leader tied up in the corner, he mentioned that Tori and I had bounties. Why would either of us have one in the first place, though? We had just made it to San Jose; we didn't hurt or even interact with anyone. It makes absolutely no sense.

At least I had avenged her. Now, I have to head east. I think Zach is right; nothing's left for me here. I had come out this way to live a specific, peaceful life. They took that chance away from me in mere seconds.

I walk up the stairs into their safe house. It's quiet, just how I left it. I had seen four people when we were shot, and only eight people were here when I slaughtered them all. The four innocents didn't deserve it. I don't consider myself a good person; no one who survives this long could honestly be with how our daily lives are shaped.

Shattered glass cracks beneath my shoes as I sweep the building. I hear the faintest whistle of wind outside as I try to stay observant. Where would they keep it? That's when I spot an open safe in the next room.

I step in, inspecting it. The cubic safe looks to be no more than two feet wide. The door hangs open, empty cans of ravioli sprawled across the floor. A sticky note sits on the edge of a nearby desk. It reads "7605."

Sighing, I leave the room. All the food is eaten; probably a store of goods they found and got the code for. It's a shame; I could go for some ravioli right now. Granola bars and camping MREs are being to get stale.

The next room is an office of some sort. This must be the leader's place; yes, that's right. I remember dragging him out of here last, once all of his men had sacrificed themselves. They fought hard to protect their leader, but he didn't seem to care. Lots are strewn about in this room, from pieces of paper to... clothes?

A red backpack sits in the corner. I stride over, slowly opening the zipper. My eyes go wide as I see a pack of C4 explosives taking up the whole bag. Holy shit. This has enough firepower to level a mansion. Where did they even get this?! I take the detonator and hoist the bag over my shoulder.

Immediately, my eyes catch what I came here for in the next room. It's their armory, and sitting on a table in the back is my trusty Glock. I'd had it for so long now, and it didn't feel right to part ways with it. This little lifesaver is coming with me.

I cringe as I feel pain in my left arm. This wound really sucks; the gunshot blew straight into my forearm muscle, so that arm is practically unusable for now. I had built a makeshift brace for it, but it's neither professional nor comfortable. I believe my combat experience with SPEC is the only reason I managed to take out this safehouse with one usable arm.

Nothing of interest lay in any of the other rooms. Waiting isn't an option now; it's time to go. The sooner I get out of this city, the better. I gather my stuff and head out to the vehicle. Tori and I had managed to cruise west in an old 4Runner. Lots of space for gear, offroad capability, and non-abysmal fuel mileage- perfect.

Hopping in, I turn the makeshift key. The engine roars to life, and my gas tank shows half full. Tori and I took a month to go from coast to coast; who knows how quickly I'd go. The less gas I need to siphon, the better.

Riko had given us a great going-away gift; a mechanical siphon. As long as I have thais, I won't have to taste gasoline. It sits in the backseat. That's when I notice... the lack of anyone in the passenger seat.

God. Would I be able to get used to that? Should I in the first place?

I put the truck in gear, driving towards I80.

~...~

Again with this?

I'm in bed, and 11:11 reads on the clock. Why is this happening? Twice in two days; that's a recent record. They haven't been this frequent since my first trip to Battery. I know I'd placed a house once, which stopped them until now, but I don't understand the meaning of this. It can't be the same thing, right?

Stepping into the living room, I notice the walls' cracks from yesterday are gone. The back porch doesn't have any game boards or maps; instead, the table is reconstructed but empty. There's a sound this time: the wind, which is all I can hear. It seems violent, and I can't pinpoint where it's coming from.

The figure in the void remains. It's indescribable; how can it be blacker than the dark void? It doesn't make a shred of sense, but there it is, floating. Suddenly, it draws a gun. I don't even hear it shoot, but I watch as the bullet flies through my arm while I fall to the ground.

And there she is: her bloodied corpse lay beside me. I try to scream, hearing nothing but wind.

~...~

"AHHH!" I yell, throwing my body forward. I jolt back in pain as my head rams into the steering wheel, now holding back tears. Why is my own mind torturing me? I just want to forget what I've seen.

I look around, trying to ignore the image. Directly in front of me is the Nevada welcome sign. I remember now; I'd made it through the sierras before stopping for a nap. Arid hills surround me, a showcase for what's ahead on this route. I'd never driven through Nevada before, but I know I'm not missing too much.

Reno lies head, though sundown seems to be approaching rapidly. Maybe I can siphon some fuel from some roadside wrecks. I'll need it for the desert run. I hope it gets my mind off of what I'd just seen. It's torture, really; I'm beginning to dread sleep.