Turmoil

The Spiral of Why's

Tim

Atlanta has a plan. A wacky, restless plan that only a person with the mental capacity of both a genius and a lunatic could come up with. Somehow, with her that makes sense. I have begun to learn, that with her sparkle, everything makes sense.

"It's easy, we go in, we charm, we steal, we get out, " she says, after explaining everything to us.

"Sounds perfect, " Phoenix says, but somehow, something tells me that he doesn't agree. Emotions are stupid, some people say. But they are part of our biology, so they serve a purpose. Our whole bodies are one big lump of purpose.

"No it doesn't, " Lorraine argues, and she's shaking her head, " these are just words, we know no details,"

I got to agree with Lorraine. Lorraine, she's a girl with a firm grip. When you look at her, you think of flowers budding on the stem of a cactus. She's responsible, she's by the book, and she knows the rules.

"Darling, there are no details, " Atlanta flashes her irresistible smile, " this is pure instinct, "

On a certain extent, she is right. What she has in mind, relies purely on luck and charisma. And on the way male brains are wired. It was going to get us food.

"I don't know, " Lorraine dithers " we could try fishing, "

"And die of food poisoning, " Atlanta snorts " none of us here actually know how to prepare a fish, "

Lorraine, she's not oblivious to the biting tone of Atlanta's voice, nor that the comment was directed at her and her privileged background. Clearly, I'm not the only one who has figured Lorraine out. I want to tell her that no, I am very much well aware of how to prepare a fish, even if theoretically when Phoenix, gently cuts in

"We'll try Atlanta's plan today, " he says "and we'll go fishing the next time we require food, "

Phoenix has such a pleasing facial expression, such a gentle nature, that nobody has the heart to disagree. Lorraine grunts her concurrence and Atlanta makes a joke about not expecting to eat sushi when she had first set off to survival camp. The tension evaporates before we leave.

Atlanta knows where all the other campers are set up. She peeked at Donna's arrangement map when the woman first walked over. I'm surprised she remembers. Her keen grey eyes, there's something arresting about the way they glint.

She knows where to find our prey and even in the dark, her talent to sniff out the right direction isn't dampened. Perhaps this stems from her strong sense of self. Or maybe she could sense magnetic North, like a bird.

Either way, we arrive in our destination with minimum wandering.

"The plan is simple, we girls, keep their attention on us, " Atlanta is giving last-minute instructions in a hurried whisper. When she says the words 'us girls' she shimmies and loops her arm through Lorraine's "while you clear out their food supplies. Just leave them something. Pity is always a great thing in war, "

Even in the dark, I can see her eyes glowing, wide like two UFOs in the sky of her pale face. She flashes one last smile, salutes us formally, and Phoenix salutes back, and then out two ladies are off, marching into the brightness of the campfire where our enemies reside.

"Hello honey bunnies, " the first one greets them. He has beer in his hand. Clearly, somebody wasn't listening to the rules. From the way his nose slants, I'm certain that he's gotten in a few fights of his own.

"It's very sexists of you to call us that, " Atlanta says, and drags a very straight-backed Lorraine to the logs they're sitting on " to make up for that, you'll have to tell us your name and to give us some of that beer you've got, "