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Chapter 6 - The Caravan "Amongst The Mud And The Blood"

Posted by CO-GMFor group 0
CO-GM
GM, 53 posts
Mon 15 Aug 2016
at 16:11
  • msg #1

Chapter 6 - The Caravan "Amongst The Mud And The Blood"

(Immediately after the Battle of Slaughter - Chapter 5)


The light faded as the Caravan escaped the Battle of Slaughter, wounded and maimed in tow, adrenaline the only thing keeping the hungry and rattled group moving onwards. Night was never the time to be out and about in the land of the undead. The group exchanged silent looks as they hustled through forest, darting in and around thick and thin trees, following a sweat-soaked, breathless Mahmoud, a duffle bag of weapons slung on his back. He knew tthe area best, but that didn't say much. In addition to leading the direction  Mahmoud kept aware of Lorenzo, who was in fact injured from before the fight, despite the tough act the man put on.

Isabelle had learned how to move quicker in a rush even with her one leg, though Dominic had to help her to keep pace. Luke assisted Bohannon, managing to convince the leg-shot(through and through, not mortal) cowboy to take the help so that he wouldn't fall behind, promising to keep Karen close who had her own wounds to contend with, so that Bo would take his help. She was still shell shocked from what her son and his group had done to them. Bohannon's wound had been fastened a hasty tourniquet, which would need to be changed the sooner the better.

Joe hauled Ricky over one shoulder, the tall elder Caravaner able to somehow manage this task despite his own rough shape, keeping pace with Mahmoud up front. Ricky was pale as a ghost and motionless, the arrow that had pierced his chest still lodged within his frame. Blood utterly soaked Joe's shoulder, streaming carmine red down his clothes. They couldn't just leave the man behind, even if it looked like he was finished. Not after what they'd been through. In any case, adrenaline had made their choices for them.

New Mexico stayed close to Tom and Hank, keeping his promise to the elder Lucion regarding the younger even though the battle was ostensibly over. The fight for shelter and calm was what they were after now. An additional but useful burden to NM was the 15 pound bag of rice they'd found in the house back in Slaughter.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

(The morning after the Battle of Slaughter, beginning of the Sixth Chapter of the chronicles of the Caravan)

It was dawn.

Sun broke over the Caravan's temporary home, a rusted metal barn that Mahmoud and Bohannon had crossed on their detour the day before, when flanking and coming to the aid of Caravan. Some of the walkers that they had lured to the Battle of Slaughter had come from this spot, giving Mahmoud some temporary confidence it was going to be clear.

A long forgotten RV sat next the barn. Wasn't much, but had yielded random supplies when the Caravan had searched it. Likewise with the metal barn. What didn't look like much, sometimes revealed surprising contents. Even little meant much these days.
The metal barn was able to be barricaded shut by equipment inside, giving some semblance of protection for the night. The inhabitants huddled together inside to keep warm by necessity or choice or both, like they were about to go into collective hibernation. Extreme fatigue overpowered all other senses the night before, leading all to eventually sleep. The bag of rice sat against the barn wall. They were too tired to cook.

Ricky had survived until they'd gotten to the barn. They'd laid him down at the base of a tree next to the barn, unable to help the mortally wounded a man, unable to make him even slightly comfortable. There were no emergency rooms anymore. There was nothing they could do.

They had said their goodbye's to Ricky as he shivered, every moment causing agony. The last thing he asked for was water, Joe clutching the young man's hand tightly as the light faded from his open eyes, which the old bowman then closed as a last favor. He'd been with the Caravan through so much, but it was over for him.

Ricky's body had been covered up with a blanket from the RV. Come early morning he lay where they left him, outside the barn under the tree, away from the group but still eerily close, his runners-clad feet sticking out from the bottom of the blanket.

Come morning Joe was already out digging a grave, using a shovel from the barn, a stroke of luck too late, though it wouldn't have been needed if they hadn't lost their man. Cauldershore had been expected to pass after a long illness, but Ricky was another case.

Note: you may feel free to scavenge items from your location, within enough reason of course.
This message was last edited by the GM at 16:18, Mon 15 Aug 2016.
Dominic Dubreton
Player, 344 posts
The Guy with the Sword
"Doc"
Tue 16 Aug 2016
at 18:48
  • msg #2

Chapter 6 - The Caravan "Amongst The Mud And The Blood"

Dominic ran through the forest, his hand gripping on tightly to Isabelle's as much for reassurance than to help her keep up the horrific pace he was setting. Their pursuers weren't far behind them and were rapidly gaining on them; they would have to move even quicker if they were to ever escape them.
A loud metallic crack could be heard a mere fraction before Izzy's scream as the bear trap slammed shut about her leg "No! I'm going to get you out of this just stay calm!" he shouted; desperately trying to prize apart the steel jaws that were crushing her leg "oh Dominic sweetie, you never went to that much effort to save me...what makes her so special?" a familiar voice purred from behind him. Turning his head he stared in horror as Sierra approached him; blood running down her face from the single bullet wound in her head "No...That’s not fair...I didn't..." Dominic began only to be cut off by yet more voices from his past
"And what about us? you didn't even bother looking for us" Nevada and Lizzie asked; their waterlogged clothes clinging to pallid rotting flesh with putrid water pouring from out of the mouths with every word they said "Shit boy, You couldn't even do you own dirty work!" Sam drawled with blood flowing from between his lips and looking like he’d just escaped an abattoir.
It was all Dominic could do to stop himself from screaming as rank after rank of dead friends and colleagues came towards him, eager to take their revenge upon him for failing to save them. He got up to run, to take Izzy's hand and save her from this hell even if it meant cutting off her leg all over again. But Izzy was gone and it was his foot in the trap. Looking up Dominic had enough time to watch as Sam and Brady drew large rusty Bowie knives before they fell upon him with Sam’s cackling words only just audible above his screams "boy, you have no idea how much I'm going to enjoy this!"


Dom awoke with a start; jamming his hand between his teeth to stifle the cry of terror welling up from deep within him. He’d had nightmares before but that had been one of the worst, with the memory of Ricky and Cauldershore pinning him in place as the dead Southerners had hacked him apart doing little to help calm him down.
Cautiously removing his hand from out of his mouth Dominic took a moment to idly examine the teeth marks within his flesh before pulling Izzy just that little bit closer to him. Like a little kid with a security blanket.

How had everything gone to hell so quickly? He'd done it. He'd gotten Ricky back, and then there was the arrow sticking through his chest mockingly; screaming to the world that once again he'd failed to save someone he'd cared about.
After that it had just been a blur of bullets, Zed's and explosions as the world around him seemed to go to hell. He'd stood there screaming at the top of his lungs at the Lost Boy's as he'd emptied the magazine of his gun at them, though for the life of him he couldn't tell you what it had been he was screaming...Kaidan's name perhaps? The gods alone knew how much he wanted to kill the little shit and to hell with Karen’s request.
Even now as he lay upon the pile of warm, dry hay with his arms around Izzy he couldn't quite fathom why Kaidan had done what he'd done. He’d gotten what he’d asked for and it wasn’t even like he’d test fired one of those dud pistols as Hank had feared he would. He’d just killed someone in cold blood and started a war for no apparent reason.

He’d have to get up soon and try and figure out what the hell they were going to do; they couldn’t stay here that was for certain as the Lost Boy’s would no doubt be out for their blood, but Dominic was at a loss as to where to suggest they go. With a large proportion of them sporting injuries they were in no fit state to travel long distances even if they weren’t half starved.
As his mind turned to that of the groups various wounds he couldn’t help but carefully probe the scar running along his cheek. He wasn’t sure what was worse; discovering that he’d unknowingly traded death for a large horizontal scar that ran just beneath his right cheekbone or having to put stitches into his own face using the RV’s wing mirror and bright pink cotton he’d found within a sewing kit on its back seat.
An agonising jolt of pain quickly told him that it still hurt like hell and that touching it was still a bad idea. The scar would be permanent, no two ways about that assuming of course it didn’t become infected and kill him…but that was ok because chicks dig scars right?
This message was last edited by the player at 17:14, Fri 19 Aug 2016.
Lorenzo
Player, 71 posts
Thu 18 Aug 2016
at 14:17
  • msg #3

Chapter 6 - The Caravan "Amongst The Mud And The Blood"

That night Lorenzo had curled up in the most isolated corner he could find and slept like a rock. If he dreamed he couldn't remember. His arm felt swollen and stiff. It hadn't kept him awake though- after the horrible sleep he'd had the night before nothing short of the Lost Boys knocking on the door could've kept him awake.

Joe was already outside when he woke. Lorenzo curled his fingers into a fist few times, if only to prove to himself he could. For a moment he laid there and tried to make out the dim shapes of the others in the barn. Maybe he could just go back to sleep. It was an afterthought, he was already hauling himself up.

After a customary prowl around the barn looking for creepy-crawlies proved uneventful, he went back in to retrieve a rickety toolkit and a couple old planks of wood. He nodded to Joe, marching past to the RV some distance away.

He could still see the old guy working on the grave. He set the toolkit down by the wheel. Last night Lorenzo didn't have anything to say to Ricky. What are you supposed to say to a dying man? Sucks to be you? He just hung back while the others said their pieces, not really knowing what to do with himself but not wanting to outright leave either.

Later he wanted to work on the RV and see if it had any juice left in it. First things first though. He headed into the vehicle and laid his materials out on the table. It was annoying trying to grip the nail with his bum hand. Even more annoying during the first blow to drive it into the wood, but he stubbornly gritted his teeth. The out of place sound of hammering came from the RV and cut into the morning air.
Isabelle
NPC, 65 posts
"Izzy" I only need one
foot to kick your ass.
Fri 19 Aug 2016
at 01:44
  • msg #4

Chapter 6 - The Caravan "Amongst The Mud And The Blood"

When they had arrived at the metal refuge the night before, Izzy was not sure she would be able to sleep. Not after having to see off Ricky, who'd been with them for so long. She had grown hard of heart over time as the world had dissolved around her, that she felt more remorse that she did not feel more for the loss than she did. She knew she had, but she was both too exhausted, emotionally and physically, and too desensitized to let go her defenses that kept her from breaking down entirely.

During the night she was grateful for Dominic's embrace, not only keeping warm, but feeling safe, as strange as it was to admit. She'd fallen asleep almost immediately after laying down with her man, playing small spoon for the occasion. The hay felt like a feather bed. She was grimy, disheveled, her eyes had dark circles underneath, but she slept hard.

In reply to Dominic Dubreton (msg # 2):

Izzy first slept through Dominic's initial jolt awake, the still slumbering woman murmuring in her sleep in unconscious reply to the physical sensation. She shifted slightly as she began to just slowly come around, bunting her body back against Dominic's, a hand moving back to take and tug and on Dominic's clothing.

Eyes slowly opening to a half lidded state, the sounds of their 'camp' became more obvious. Firstly the sound of a shovel in the ground outside, and then of a hammer. Izzy rubbed her eyes, then turned over so she faced Dominic, nuzzling her face against his chest, her hand gripping a clump of his shirt. She noticed he'd been worrying his scar.

"You're still handsome." She spoke softly in a whisper, her tone carrying additional comments, such as 'I love you', 'I'm worried about you'.
This message was last edited by the player at 01:45, Fri 19 Aug 2016.
New Mexico
Player, 245 posts
"The Kid"
Caravan Member
Fri 19 Aug 2016
at 02:07
  • msg #5

Chapter 6 - The Caravan "Amongst The Mud And The Blood"

What was there to say about the events of the previous day?

The names and faces had become so numerous and fleeting that NM wasn't sure if he even had the energy to exert on the sorrow that accompanied the brutal reality of what their lives were like. It was like they could not catch a break. In the past, when his dad had been lecturing him about his laziness, his complaining, the old man had informed a slightly younger NM that he would know he was mature when out on his own, when he realized that there was no rescue coming, that anything better was on him. He'd scoffed at the old coot, who wasn't really that old now that the teen thought about it.

After saying goodbye to Ricky under the tree, he'd crashed like most if not all of the others, to varying degrees of comfort. Exhausted after the fight, he had put off any guilt over what they'd been through. Truth was, he'd never fired his gun once in the fight, instead he'd kept Tom close. With the walkers around the street, the Lost Boy's hadn't tried any attack at the back door. They'd gotten lucky, though it wasn't luck, it was Mahmoud and Benson coming to the rescue.

New Mexico kept close to Hank and Tom during the night, and he dreamed about his family. His younger sisters. He used to cook breakfast for them. Bacon. Almost every morning. It wasn't just a job, he enjoyed it.

Weirdly, he felt better when he woke up to the sounds of the group coming about. Sitting up, he noted who was still sleeping. His long shaggy hair was a mess. He really needed a cut, for not only was it uncomfortable with the weather getting hotter, but it was too easy for a biter to grab hold of.

Pulling a piece or two of straw from his brown locks, he observed Tom and Hank, then Lorenzo and Izzy for a moment before rising up.

On his way out of the barn, he glanced at the bag of rice they still had. NM had used it as a pillow during the night, though it hadn't been ideal.
Probably the only good thing to come out of Slaughter. He considered that if the RV could work, maybe they could cook the rice up in the vehicle over the stove top.

Gently closing the barn door behind him, the still half asleep teenager left the door open a crack to let morning air and a thin beam of light enter for the others. Dressed in a dirty dark green hoodie and jeans, he'd also slept in the combat boots stolen from the DEA van ghouls. He left behind his body armor where he'd slept, for now. The young Caravaner brought his machete though, sliding it back into the sheath fastened by straps to his thigh. He'd taken it out during the night so it wouldn't poke him uncomfortably.

First thing was first, he had to take a piss. It was hard to imagine he had any fluids considering he hadn't had water for a good bit now.
Glancing to Joe briefly, and to the pair of feet sticking out from under a blanket at the base of a nearby tree, NM moved to the side of the barn to do his business. He'd made sure not to pee directly on the metal, so as not to grossly wake up the others.

NM glanced over his shoulder once or twice, eyes squinting against the light of the rising sun, checking his blind spots for lurkers as he was most vulnerable.

---

Having survived the process of urination, New Mexico went to speak to Joe. He would have offered to help, but they had only one shovel, and Joe was nearly finished. They exchanged a few words of greeting, with a knowingness in their interaction, their gazes, that was almost like friends who'd been through war together. Joe told NM that Lorenzo was in the RV when the Kid asked.

Moving on, New Mexico entered the RV, following the sound of the hammering. His boots on the steps into the RV caused slight bounce before he opened the door to go inside. Clearly Lorenzo was working on something, but seemed to be having at least some discomfort as he did so. Was he building a cross for the grave?

"Hey dude. How's the arm?" He asked quietly, hands stuffed into his hoodie pockets, looking messy. The teen stepped closer but kept out of way of the hammer pull back.

Lorenzo had saved his life by taking on Sam during the storm, and though the guy was strong NM knew he was literally bent out of shape. NM had had his own scrape many months back, when one of Sam's goons shot him in the shoulder. He'd barely survived, Dominic and the others had saved his life, but they lost Mark and Rob in the process.
This message was last edited by the player at 02:34, Fri 19 Aug 2016.
Mahmoud
NPC, 85 posts
Caravan Member
Gandalf the Brown
Fri 19 Aug 2016
at 02:32
  • msg #6

Chapter 6 - The Caravan "Amongst The Mud And The Blood"

Mahmoud groaned as he rolled over in the hay, a brown hand rising to scritch-scratch his big black beard. It had grown out over the last many months, though he'd tried to keep it reasonable at times, he was looking more and more like the other men in family photos, with Sikh men adorned in curling, well maintained beards. Luke would be proud. A traditional headdress though, that would be a bit much in times such as these. Mahmoud was a more modern guy anyway, it had never been his thing, even if expected.

The Caravner had led the group to this barn, that he and Benson had found on the way to reuniting with the group, which had happened just in time. Not in time for Ricky, though. He remembered back at the CDC when he, Ricky, Cookie, many others had chopped their way through dozens of undead to get to a boat that would take them to the ill-fated Fort Dixie.

Ricky's friend, the mute boy, hadn't made it out of that. They hadn't heard him scream because of it, and couldn't save him. They at least got to say goodbye to Ricky. Mahmoud had put up a brave face for Ricky, but had admittedly broken down a bit in exhaustion afterwards, shedding some tears and expressing true grief, but keeping quiet so as not to attract walkers in the night.

He was sure they all felt awful in the same way, and additionally awful in other ways. Mahmoud had become the guy that tried to take care of everyone else, from being the guy who had been, well, pretty much like Luke when he first joined the Caravan, same time as Izzy, in fact. To that point..

Mahmoud noticed that Luke, who'd slept next to him, had in fact grabbed onto him, in effect 'snuggling' him as he'd slept. His eyes widened open, and he would have tensed up even more than he had if wasn't still sluggish. And truly, he'd needed the sleep, and had gained some rest in spite of events.

"Ugh, off off off.." Mahmoud urged as he sat up, snaking out of Luke's arms, the young man drooling, mustache askew which Mahmoud knew would vex the vain millennial.
Karen
Player, 129 posts
The Traitor
Caravan Member
Fri 19 Aug 2016
at 04:45
  • msg #7

Chapter 6 - The Caravan "Amongst The Mud And The Blood"

Karen may as well have been a ghost, the way she sat by Ricky under the tree. Had she been there all night? Her face was coloured in all different shades. Blue grey for the tired, haven't-slept-in-two-days bags under her eyes. Red for her eye lids and her nose, from quietly weeping all night long. And finally a pale white for her complexion, from not eating since the scraps in the office building after the storm, and brought on by the slight chill of the night.

Karen looked a mess. Considering the circumstances though, maybe that was acceptable. She slouched, her knees up, tight to her chest. Her back stuck to the tree, APD jacket scrunched up at the bottom. Every now and again she brought her hand up to wipe the snot from her nose and the tears from her eyes.

Early that morning when Joe had come out with the first crack of the sun to begin grave digging, he had found Karen there beside Ricky in exactly this posture. Joe had tried to talk to her, to get her to go inside and get some rest, but talking to the tree probably would have gotten the man more for his troubles. Karen just sat there, in a daze, mumbling and crying.

So, had she been out there all night?

Truthfully, Karen didn't remember leaving Slaughter. Everything after Kaidan... No. Atlanta fired that arrow at Ricky was gone. Not even a blur to her. Simply blank. Now the sight of Ricky, wrapped up in a blanket, his feet peeking out, the breeze fluttering what covered his blank, expressionless face. It was a sight all to vivid.

Karen took a deep breath in, recovering from another fit of quiet sobbing. "I'm so so sorry Ricky. It's my fault, I know. I'm such  horrible mother. Kaidan was right. He was right, I was never there. I was never there for him. I was gone. I was gone in Iraq. I was gone at work. I didn't want to come home. I didn't want to come home Ricky, I was scared. I was scared of him. I was scared of my boy!" She began weeping again. "He scared me!" Karen clamped her hands around her forehead and her face. "Antisocial personality disorder is impossible to diagnose in a child his age? Fuck you! Fuck you! You knew!" Karen shook her head over and over. "And I was scared to come home to him. I left him at home and I sent him away and I couldn't stop taking those pills, because I knew. I knew about him. I did this. I let this happen Ricky! I let this happen! I did this to you! Blame me Ricky! Blame me for this! It's my fault!" Karen cupped her hands around her face again and continued sobbing.

She had been like this all night. From the moment the last of them finished saying their goodbyes to Ricky, after he was gone and wrapped up, Karen took her turn. She sat beside the tree and said goodbye to him and she hadn't moved since. She just keep weeping and rambling and sobbing and ranting. And then when she wasn't doing that she just stared blankly at Ricky in silence.

Deep in thought Karen's heavy eyelids were locked on Ricky's face. Drooping slowly, over and over her eyes finally shut, only for a moment. Suddenly she saw not the arrow ripping through Ricky's chest, but rather Christopher. The man's face was devoid of any color, his lips darkening and his eyes struggling to stay open. He wasn't quite aware when the other's arrived, a weak cough from the mortally wounded man releasing some blood from his mouth before he could summon any words. "Don't waste the supplies.." He managed to say to Dominic. If he was able to raise his hand he would have waved off the treatment.

"Find the others.. Take my sword..Karen knows..-" Without a stir, he drifted off, his pale blue eyes still open, staring at the others with no life behind them. One hand still grasped his cavalry sabre, another human's blood clinging to the blade.


Karen's eyes snapped open once more. She had murdered Christopher along with so many others, their names unknown to her. And now Ricky, who had survived the attack on the farm that day only to be hauled to St. Louis where so many more people died, each and every one of their blood on Karen's hands too. Rachel, Doug, Sierra, Christopher... Each one of them died, to bring her son back to her, just so he could kill Ricky. It was a vicious cycle of blood, all in the service of one evil boy.
Hank Lucion
Player, 133 posts
Fri 19 Aug 2016
at 22:57
  • msg #8

Chapter 6 - The Caravan "Amongst The Mud And The Blood"

So much potential, gone in a hail of gunfire. Even if Kaiden didn't experience normal human emotions logic should have dictated the advantages of an alliance, or at least not starting a feud. Though sabotaging the guns would have been an issue. Joe was right, the Lost Boys weren't just kids anymore, they were survivors. At least the diversion Mahmoud and Benson had dissuaded any immediate chase. Just as well, between the shock and Ricky they hadn't made their best time.

Ricky...zombies were almost the expected way to go now. A psychotic teen during a hostage exchange? Who could have imagined that? He hadn't really known the young man, so hadn't known what to say after they laid him against the tree. Though a small, guilty part of him had been glad it wasn't Joe.

The sounds of people moving about slowly roused Hank, pinned by Tom's sleeping form. Given the yesterday's events the kid had curled up almost as soon as Hank had gotten the hay ready, something he hadn't done in a while. Sleep hadn't come easy as visions of the battle's aftermath played through his head. That had been the closest they'd been to dying by human hands since the fort.

Running a hand gently through Tom's hair he wondered how any further run ins with the Lost Boys would go. Surly they all couldn't be out for blood. If they ran into Wyoming they should be good, assuming he had made it out. There hadn't been time to see if he was among those shot down or overrun.
Dominic Dubreton
Player, 345 posts
The Guy with the Sword
"Doc"
Sat 20 Aug 2016
at 22:27
  • msg #9

Chapter 6 - The Caravan "Amongst The Mud And The Blood"

"Still? You mean I was handsome before?" Dominic replied; his quiet chuckling cut short by a hiss of pain as his wound reacted badly to his use of facial muscles, Ok, so laughing hurts...gonna have to remember that he wryly thought as he forced himself not to touch the side of his face by burying his free hand deep into Izzy's beautifully dark hair "I'll be alright, yesterday was just...bad" he finished with the word "Bad" not seeming to cut it, but knowing that to go any deeper would only cause more pain than it was worth.

It was as he was quietly speaking to Izzy that a shaft of light would stretch across the barn as one of the others got up and set about their morning routine, reminding Dominic once again that he still needed to come up with a plan as to what they were going to do "you know...I was thinking that perhaps we should head north? Get out of the state whilst the getting's good and look at finding one of those mountain lodges that Mahmoud was talking about...it'd be nice to be able to settle down for a little while, take this sword off and spend a little time with my girlfriend" he said; shifting position so that Izzy lay atop of him with his arms about her in a tender embrace. Why had it taken him so long to realise how pretty she was? Not to mention all the other qualities that had drawn him to her like a moth to a flame, hell if it hadn't been for that trip into the woods would they have gotten together sooner? Or had the accident been the catalyst that had set it all going? It was an interesting thought, though perhaps one for another time and kept to the confines of his head.

The idea of finding somewhere up in the mountains was kind of appealing. A place where they could all spend a couple of months growing crops and recovering from their various injuries before heading back out into Zombieland once again. Assuming of course that they ever wanted to, though considering their track record with permanent settlements perhaps it would be for the best if they did.
With the sound of a hammer coming from somewhere outside breaking him out of his little day dream he offers Izzy a smile before speaking to her "how are you holding up babe?" Dominic quietly asked the brunette currently dozing on his chest "...I know you and Ricky went through that whole St Louis mess together so...erm...if you want to...talk or something..." Dominic decided that perhaps it would be best to let the rest of that sentence hang seen as he didn't really know where he was going with it. Only knowing that if Izzy wanted to talk to him about it that she would do so and that he wasn't about to force the issue. He cared far too much about his beautiful warrior woman to ever do that to her.
Lorenzo
Player, 72 posts
Sun 21 Aug 2016
at 17:10
  • msg #10

Chapter 6 - The Caravan "Amongst The Mud And The Blood"

Lorenzo glanced up when he heard someone enter the RV. Mexico. A couple things flashed across his face. Foremost surprise. People didn't tend to come talk with him for the hell of it. Usually they wanted something dangerous dead, something heavy moved, or were bumming a smoke. Then came defensiveness, all tense shoulders and wary eyes like he'd been caught doing something embarrassing- it disappeared once the kid asked about something unrelated to the cross.

"Too messed to lift anything, if that's what you're about to ask for," he answered simply. "'S still broke. Hurts like shit. Were you expecting something different?"

A teasing smile added some levity to his otherwise gruff tone.

His focus shifted back to the cross. When he was a kid even the family dog at least had the dignity of a grave marker. A big stone him and the other children painted. Sky blue with white splotches that were in theory supposed to be clouds, messy writing, and a trail of birds going across. Not unlike the birds he had tattooed by his shoulder, though the stories between the two were wildly different.

"How you doing México?" He watched the kid from the corner of his eye while he worked. "Did you need something?"
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