((Damion Castillo continues from Second Impressions
So, it turned out the plan was that there was no plan. Just walk around the island until they found... something. Whatever that something was, God knew.
Every now and then, he would sneak a glare at James while he wasn't looking. He'd felt safe in that tunnel. Sure, people just randomly popped out of there like the place had a spawner of some kind, but... on the other hand, maybe it wasn't the best place after all. But at least he'd felt safe there. Here, just walking around towards that unknown something, Damion felt exposed. Even as they walked past open plains with the horizon unobstructed, imaginary gazes pointed at him. Waiting. Accusing.
And so Damion held onto his gun. Tightened his grip.
Every now and then, James would try to start up small talk. Words that only fulfilled the purpose of sounds: to fill ears. Nothing more. And Damion would try to answer, try to kill the silence crushing in on them, but what were you supposed to talk about? How the hell could you dare use air asking how the day was?
Back in school, he and James would talk about what their homework was like, what their teachers were like, what new interesting math fact they'd found out, because that's what their interests were. That's what they had founded their relationship on: the normalcies of school life. But school had been ending, and so the classes were just held to complete attendance, and their conversations had shifted from what they had done to what they would do. And now, no one wanted to talk about that.
So, they walked. And Damion hated himself for letting that silence continue, because thoughts filled up the absence of words. Mostly those glares. The feel of his gun, the very gun he held. How his arms still ached. How a metal eye had tracked their movements, captured every shame, every regret.
And he'd close his eyes, and he'd wish it all back.
He was supposed to be better than that. He could've just walked away. Or maybe he could've just stayed where he woke up longer, gotten himself together. But things didn't quite work out that way, and now the results just echoed continuously.
Eventually, Damion and James found their something. A bunch of containers and docks. The first sign of civilization they'd seen, aside from the tunnels. Shelter. Possibly more supplies, more tools. It would do.
The shadows had grown rather long by the time they'd arrived. Damion paused at a shipping crate and slanted against it, breathing heavily. He looked at the map. They'd walked across the entire island, apparently, although that was a fact his body was well-aware of.
When his heart finally slowed down, he asked James, "You fine with resting here for now?"
Then, his eyes wandered a bit. There was an odd shape off in the distance. Like the letter Y. A barrel. A barrel and...
"What the fuck?"