doomsday. ( yellowjackets )

soixante-douze.

xxx.

chapter soixante-douze.
chapter seventy two.

1997.

xxx.

             Morning came back before the girls did, yet Tara's night was anything but peaceful. She couldn't get the image of Travis's drawing out of her head, paranoia packaged with the cramp she got in her back no matter which way she turned, she didn't sleep much at all. However, she woken up by what she presumed was nausea, but when she abruptly sat up and threw her legs over the side of the hammock, Tara stopped.

             Her hands held on to the fabric that held both her and Travis's bodies above the ground, grip tight as she braced to heave last night's dinner up, but it never came. Actually, quite the opposite happened. Tara felt her stomach ache, but it was unlike those that had happened at random times throughout the day for the past few months.

She was hungry, dramatic as it was, she could've been starving— maybe she imagined eating last night before she fell asleep?

" Hey, you okay? " Travis's voice was a whisper, as if he already knew they were no longer in camp before he saw or heard the Yellowjackets retreating back to the shelters.

Their arrival left little time for Tara to respond, so she just offered him a halfhearted nod. Travis's eyes lingered on her face after that, but eventually they both casted their gazes over to the girls that had finally come trekking back.

         Drawn by the sounds of the hunting party crunching the twigs that laid beneath their feet, Lottie and Theo also appeared beside Travis and Tara. Lottie's brows were lowered with curiosity, but Theo's face remained solemn. She wanted them to have failed, to not have found Coach Scott and Sam, that much was obvious to everyone.

          At the front of the single file line, Natalie walked with a clear crestfallen face, her eyes hardened in deep thought. Behind her, Coach Scott limped on his crutches; beard grown out and scraggly to match his hair, dirt smeared over his face and his once-bright yellow polo. The rest of the girls trudged in line, exhaustion and streaks of dirt complimenting their tired walks and heavy-hung shoulders.

         They broke the barrier of the camp, walking in towards the shelters. As they passed the four that had stayed behind, Natalie glanced at them from her peripherals. It wasn't long enough to really get much out of it, but Theo saw the way Natalie's lips pursed and how quickly she steered her eyes forward again. She took it as an apology.

          I didn't want to find him, either.

          Theo believed that, she really did, but it didn't matter now. He was there, and, maybe they'd both silently told themselves that it was inevitable that they'd be found. All they could do from that point on was try to lessen the blow of what would happen moving forward.

         Theo found herself staring after the back of Natalie's head in order to avoid looking at Coach Scott. She already felt the dread, whether it be the same kind that was sitting in the back of her throat all night or what was oozing off of Natalie. She still forced herself to, though, turning her head to see the disheveled man looking around at their camp— in awe, maybe, at how much the soccer team had put together for themselves with so few instruction or resources.