Population Control

Jason IV

Mamihlapinatapai – a look that is shared between two people, each wishing that the other would initiate something they both desire but that neither wants to begin

0o0

Haunted by the sight, we collapsed in our room: Sami and Matthew took the settee, Dylan resting against the side of the bed, and Camille and I fell against the wall, knees up. "We need to leave." Camille murmured, loud enough in this silence for everyone to hear clear as crystals.

"What did we just see?" Asked Dylan, running his hand stressfully through his hair. Nobody really knew how to capture it in words. There was so much to say about it. About Leo, the cage, the severed heads, the tools, the blood

"How insane people become, apparently." Matthew added, and Sami placed a hand on top of his to calm his shaking.

"It isn't like we're being held hostage..." Sami commented, "We could leave tonight, tomorrow morning."

Maybe, it would be better if we stayed the night, but none of us felt particularly comfortable here anymore. Especially with the severed heads thing. "You alright?" Camille snapped me from my thoughts, placing a caring hand on my shoulder.

"I'm good." I cleared my throat, "I vote we leave tonight."

"Me too."

"Same."

"Finally."

"Agreed."

All in agreement, we went silently packing our stuff. Only the faint rustle of clothes was heard. I saw Matthew and Dylan sneak in a few of Leo's old clothes. Shockingly, I was not the last to finish. That prize went to Sami, who neatly folded everything to fit an extra thing in his bag: it just looked like a block of something – metal, stone, maybe? Since I finished before them, I said I'd go talk to Camille, tell her we're almost ready.

Gently, I knocked on the door before walking in and she was mid-way through closing her backpack. She heard me and her shoulders tensed before turning around and seeing who was at the door. "You guys ready then?"

"Yeah, we're basically all done." I walked closer when she faced me, a small distance between us. Looking to my left, she had something in her hand that I reached to snatch, managing to grasp onto it and surprise her enough that I brought it to my chest.
"Oh, you're so annoying!" She complained with a smile and lunged for the thing in my hand. We were around the same height, so I hopped onto a chair and held it up above her head. "Really?" She sighed, exasperated.

Jumping down, I held it out, "Here, take it." Finally, I saw it was a bookmark with a tail end on a piece of string. When she went for it, I snatched my hand back around me. She reached behind, but I trapped her arm before she could get it back. Out of nowhere, she bawled her free hand and hit my arm. It stung. "Ouch!" I rubbed my arm and scowled in mock-hurt. Along the way, I dropped the bookmark and it clonked on the floor. "Why are we friends?"

"I have no idea." There was an implication there, a subtle undertone of something I could read into like a Macbeth or Christmas Carol quote.

But I'm definitely reading into it too much, pulling at straws to grab something that's not there. We're just friends, like I said. Like how Matthew and Sami are friends with Camille.

Getting her retort out of my mind, I stepped to the bed and slouch on the bouncy mattress. "What's wrong?" She asked, sitting next to me so close our knees touched. If either of us moved our arms, legs and pinkies would touch.

"Just..." Well, there was just so much to go into: (a) feelings, (b) parentage, (c) severed heads, and (d) fleeing in the middle of the night. Not even starting with the Rabids, and the shootings and stabbings. Shockingly, she took my hand in hers: her palm was rough.

"It's cool if you don't want to talk about it," She squeezed my hand then let go, "people are allowed their secrets." Then, she reached for my hand again and twisted so the palm was facing up, "Apart from how your hand is so smooth. Did you use products or something?"

Laughing, I answered, "Not a fan of manual labour."

"But didn't you help Leo with the chickens?"

"One time!" I exclaimed and she chuckled, "Never again." She smiled at my discomfort and I smiled back.

Camille slung her bag over her shoulder, pulling down her jacket after she put the other strap on. "Let's go."

"You're keeping Meghan's clothes?" I looked at her in a short white shirt and a purple flannel shirt, but the bottom tied in a knot with no buttons done up, and the black jeans that were so dark they made her blend in at night.

"Taking the bow and arrows, too." She shrugged, like stealing from someone was nothing now. And anyway, she had enough clothes in her backpack without them anyway. She sighed, probably able to tell what I was thinking, "Not all of us think fashion first, Jase."

I nodded, trying not to think that she's only the third person I've ever allowed to call me Jase. "Do you think you want to go back for your dad?" I don't know why I asked it. It isn't my place, and I don't have any claim or right to know.

She paused, hovering. "No." Finally, after the long silence. "No. He... he made his decision. Besides." She sighed, trying to smile, "I have you guys." But I saw her holding the note, its corners worn and the crease a different shade. She put it in her pocket.

She grabbed a sticky note from the desk before leaving and quickly scribbled 'Thank you for letting us stay, but we need to go before we get too comfortable.' In both joint and un-joint writing, like the eligible messy scrawl at the last few minutes of an exam when you're still writing but know the exam is going to end soon. When we closed the door to her room quieter than a mouse evading a cat, she grabbed my hand one more time.

"I believed them." It was like a moment of realisation for her.

"What do you mean?"

"That the Donavan's were good people. I brought into their High School Musical we're-all-in-this-together shit and I was wrong."

"Hey," I pulled her back so I could look in her eyes, finding that I had to slightly look up, "there are still good people out there, and nobody's blaming you for believing them. We all did but Sami." She wouldn't look me in the eyes, so I gently took her chin. "It's one of the things I like about you." I saw her eyes moving, because when hers moved down, mine were up, and I'm willing to bet when mine were down, hers were up.

"Guys!" Matthew whisper-shouted and we soundlessly sprung apart, "We should go." He showed us the keys and , thankfully, didn't wriggle them, "Now."

When he left, we trailed after. Me, feeling like we just had a moment, and Camille's hand in mine keeping me grounded.

In the shed, she picked up one bow out of around twenty, and a full quiver (I put the cassette holder in her backpack because carrying a backpack, the cassette belt, a quiver, and a bow would be a bit much). After opening the front door and confronting the iced winds, Matthew posted the keys through the letterbox, and we were on our way.

On the way to the car there were a dozen or so Rabids, but Matthew and Camille got rid of them. Thankfully, Dylan and I didn't have to use the guns. Rabids were attracted to sound, first – we think.