Red Tide² ━ FTWD

CHAPTER 11: Dire Straits

RED TIDE

chapter eleven: dire straits

[ season 2, episode 4; blood in the streets ]

DAY 21

The sun had risen, glowing through the windows while they remained bound on the living room floor of the Abigail — watching and waiting for their captors' plans to be revealed. Heather's leg had cramped during the couple hours this had gone on, and she shifted to try and alleviate the discomfort.

"That a gunshot wound?" Reed asked Ofelia, not waiting for an answer before he pressed down on it, finger digging into the hole as the woman bit down on her cry of pain. Reed grinned — of course he was the kind of guy who got off on that. Flexing his thumbnail of power and pretending it made him strong. Finally letting go, he asked, "Who has the key to the boat?"

"I don't know," Alicia answered.

"You gonna start lying now?"

"You leave her alone," Chris said. There was an edge to his voice Heather had never heard before — something low and dangerous. The way he was looking at Reed, if she didn't know him, she'd be worried. Apparently, Reed had the same thought, watching Chris with sharp intent.

No matter how you dolled it up, underneath the trappings of civility, humans weren't nearly as evolved as they pretended to be. At their core, they were all animals.

Some animals, you could intimidate into backing down. Others, you made yourself small, non-threatening, so you could both go your separate ways peacefully. And still others, you curled into a ball and prayed to God their bark was worse than their bite.

Reed was baring his teeth, sure, but he hadn't charged. He hadn't bitten. But she knew it wouldn't take much to get him there.

This man went by the same logic as any moose or grizzly — to survive meant making yourself as small as possible, and praying he wouldn't take it as a threat.

But Chris was a city boy. He was raised within a system, where bullies were handled and regulated through bylaws, subcommittees, and stock-photo posters plastered in every hallway. He didn't know that when it came to men like this, it was less important to stand up for yourself than it was to roll over and try not to get killed. And if she tried to stand up for him, she could just as easily be signing her own death warrant.

All she could do was curl up and pray, now.

Ofelia noticed the concerning way the pirate was staring at the teen and spoke up. "Hey," she brought his attention away from the boy. "That guy you shot, genius," she bit out the word, "was the one with the key. You shot our captain."