The Fox and The Forest (EDITING)

The woman and the blue (1.9)

{Warning: this chapter contains references to suicide. Do not read if you find this particularly triggering}

x ☠  x ☠ x

"They know. They know what I did!" cried the woman, in her saturated voice.

From behind, she was an unidentifiable shadow. She was almost completely static, even her scarf encased her neck in creased concrete circles, like a brace for broken bones.

Her indigo scarf- it was the same as in Tom's visions before, with only it's frayed edges fighting immobility and escaping out into the wind. Only now had Tom finally realised the connection between Project Synthesis and the visions. They weren't side-effects at all. The government had meant to turn him into this freak of nature.

Tom stepped onto the board that extended into the in-between dimension between water and sky- towards the woman.

"Oi! Get back here. Don't disobey the code. The Ninth Law!" shouted the Captain.

Law Nine- District goers must not intervene with Mother Nature's plans of fate.

Tom flinched, but didn't turn around. Since Tom had left the facility he'd promised himself that he'd follow the rules. To blend in. He hated that he hadn't done so. 

Though Kate had been the one to start her own rebellion, now it was Tom's turn. He wouldn't try to follow the rules this time. He couldn't.

"Don't do it Tom," whispered Kate as he dared to take another step.

Flynn watched on in private worry- he didn't know whether to admire Tom's rash display of bravery or pity him because of it.

Kate furiously cupped her hands on either side of her face. Why can't he just leave the woman? she thought. She's none of our business. Tom's going to get us killed. 

Ahead of Kate and Flynn, Tom cursed his own ignorance. How could he have not realised about his side-efffects before? When he'd been almost sure that Kate was going to punch him at the oxygen kiosk?

He could've kicked himself if he'd had time to. But the blue scarf dripped back into his consciousness as it flapped beside the woman on the plank, in languid movements. A ghost in mid- haunt.

Next step. The air was left empty with the lack of sound. All to be heard was the groaning of the plank and the intermittent whimpering of a hopeless victim.

Tom glanced behind him to find the rest of the passengers stuck to the ship's deck, in a fear that was viscous and sticky, like polluted honey. Worker bees perhaps? Tom noted dryly. 

No. Tom chastised himself for becoming distracted. This was his final chance to help the woman. There would be no 3rd try. No restart button on her death.  

Concentrate.

The wind blew the salty water onto his skin- stinging him the same way devil's tears would.

Come on.

The radioactive water left raw patches on his arms as they sizzled with corrosion- poisoning his thoughts with pain.

He made another step towards the woman. This time he barely managed to drag his shaking foot forwards.

The pain had sliced a cut through his concentration. The further away from the boat he wobbled, the more the sea seemed to spit it's blue lava against his struggling body. 

After the initial shock of Tom's disobedience, the muttering of the people had gotten louder. Not that Tom could hear this though. The pain had dulled his hearing.