(It's) Always There - Ch. 13

... Guess it wasn't Navy's designated place to stay, Case figured, realizing also he'd assumed she'd stay put, what with her emotions and all. Foliage didn't allow for more than a couple strides past the home in any direction, so she could easily go unseen, particularly if hiding was the plan. Or... y'know, she's taking a piss - it was mean what he said but worrying about her shattering on a moment's notice like that was excessive.

A couple steps out the wolf peered further to the side he expected her to be, then the opposite way, then out to the unlit woods, not more than the moon and stars to help him see. So, no fireflies' glow to reflect off her orange and white body... though really he should be able to see it anyway.

"Navy?" he half-whispered... maybe not loud enough.

Once his mouth might've opened again, someone grabbed him by the shoulder. It was Hane.

The Shepherd asked (verbally), "What are you doing?"

"Can't find her. Only been looking for a second, though."

He didn't appear to care. "You can't find her because she left." An immediate, questioning flit of Case's eyes over him demanded a response... of some kind, forcing Hane to languidly point down at footprints... leading through the only break in the trees toward a grass field.

He added, "That, and I watched her leave."

... All extraneous thoughts went quelled and quiet, condensing into a reply so blatant he wondered why Hane wasn't just telling him things he should and always has.

"Why?"

"It's her choice. Should've convinced her then, if that's what you wanted."

Plainly, bitterly, he answered, "I didn't know."

... Hane wasn't contemplating, he was watching him. His face was like always, like stone, and it observed, "Uh-huh."

Oh? Okay. He'd be fine if she died? It was their responsibility to protect her - that's what taking her along meant - and here he's decided... Fuck it. It was always her choice to leave, but she was hurt and not thinking straight. He should've had a chance to talk to her.

Decisively, as it was his obligation, Case told his commander, "We're going. You're tracking her."

Something unlike the tall man went over him; he had stature, authority, and all the autonomy necessary to answer however he wanted and Case... saw the answer, "No," cross his mind. Case wouldn't be able to find her himself, Hane knew it, considered that as final, let it get nearly to formed words... then, all based on the tension in his... everywhere, the answer changed slowly.

His commander gave. Hane returned to the home, wrote a note telling her they'd be back while Case gathered his things, and left it easily viewable in the living area - it didn't appear to bother him, leaving a trail.

As they went to follow her and exactly before Hane partway crouched to do so, he signed, "Lookout," and Case obeyed.

The track's first part Case knew would be the easiest. Near the home the ground was mostly loose-ish dirt with a layer of twigs, dead leaves, and budding flora, Navy's boots sure to crack and imprint anything under them; clear cut, easy to see. So visible, in fact, that night's minimal glow wasn't issue enough to slow Hane even through the filter of a natural canopy overhead. If it went where they'd guessed (it did) then the oncoming brightness would help show where they were going, and Case could properly see their surroundings, too.

Getting lower to peer into the tall grass, Hane was covered up to the neck... an immediate slow making Case wonder what the matter was. He crouched to the side, nearly swallowed to his head the same, and watched over Hane parsing each step's direction, progress consistent yet checked and careful. The field where they hid - the one they had to travel, and had traced for a long time getting to the small home - was a number of acres in size Case wasn't able to guess of almost nothing but billowing grass.

... Case waited for Hane to do his role...

... He'd stopped moving on. The indent he looked at was a little deeper, so it should be obvious where to go next, so why was he stuck...?

... They were some yards out. Hane had gotten up somewhat for the severalth time to trace something, not seeming to find what he looked for... and Case by the last step he'd found, on all sides surrounded by grass he could barely see over, surrounded at some point on all horizons by trees he couldn't see between... waiting.

... Hane found where she went - curved to the right with another print, deeper still... Case figured out why it took so long.

She was running.

With her stride found, Hane discovered where she went a bit faster, the path consistent in its curvature, occasionally made simpler to follow by dirt and grass kicked up.

She was sprinting.

... The next print led them out of the grass to a partially raised mound of dirt... and a road. Case followed orders and trailed only on its cement, eyeing one side while Hane did the other; for dozens of feet in both directions they did that, looking anywhere for what might've been disturbed. They switched sides and did the same.

Grass engulfed and broke the road... and they met back where they started.

Hane looked around for a moment, then at Case... in the eye. All in one, Case's alternatives were cut down when he was told, "It's almost been an hour. We do any more, and it takes hours, assuming there's something to find... So. What do you want to do?"

..."It's a road, so we follow it."

"Which way?"

He didn't know for sure. Impulse said, "Back to town. She knows how to get there."

"... And?" the other man led, unconvinced.

It was the only justification he had. "The library's somewhere she knows that isn't here."

... Anticipation for some kind of input stalled Case from saying or doing - why else would Hane be so... retired, if not to deliberate, plan, consider... But he returned with not a thing to say, instead subtly motioning Case to follow him beside the road, going where Case suggested. It could be, maybe, moving somewhere was better than idling in the open, so Hane would speak when he was ready.

Should they not walk there? They'd done it partway to the tree-line already, possibly scuffing a track Navy made, nor was it easier or faster. Roads were specifically made for this. Except it would put them even more in the open with literally no cover as opposed to almost none... Hane was right, too; finding a single boot-print somewhere off the street's path, if it existed at all (probably not), would take unknown hours or even days if they wanted to be thorough. This was the best way.

Being there was... unpleasant. Watching around him felt similar. Surely he wasn't alone in that.

...

... On the in-between was where it made most sense for Hane to take them. Further out and they couldn't see shit, further in and they'd be too readily seeable in the moonlight, from them to about equally far on the street's other side as the meager gap where Navy could be seen, a black on either end intense to the point even her bright color wouldn't stand out. Case had to keep specific track of Hane, so seeing her in the middle of that while they passed through wouldn't happen... They could look around...

If she ran off into the woods there'd be no chance of finding her at night, searching or not - too fucking dark to even walk right. And too dark for Navy to find them if she tried... by sight. All of them could hear; she wasn't ever quiet and it wasn't easy for them to be either...

...

What a fuckin'...

...

The odds were bad on yelling to her... Someone else could hear it. Or Navy was close, heard them, and wouldn't answer. The point of running was to avoid them. Calling's a bad plan.

...

Near. She'd come to her senses sometime, or she'd be there in the library; girl's smart enough to know she'd be dead otherwise.

...

"Anyone could be there," Hane signed. Case eyed the building and its surroundings as he did, gave an acknowledgment, and readied behind to sprint the open.

... The commander hadn't budged, as though his confirmation didn't happen. He signed overtly, "I know," thinking he may have missed the small gesture. Either way, was that the kind of thing he had to really make sure Case knew? C'mon; fuckin' one-oh-one.

Half the distance was cut through in a few seconds, their entrance the... open back door, one of them taking its either side. The wolf covered Hane entering first, the lead clearing while he watched their surroundings, the stairs - checked first - and the hallways ends as his greatest points of focus. Swept or not, the several doorways had to be watched as well.

Out came Hane after a full check of each room, interior quietly lacking any muffled protests of a petulant girl or gunshots suggesting, every time he exited, that no one was there. After the last they entered the library proper, Case doubling Hane's check of the awning with the end of his rifle when... a band of air dense with the smell of iron swept his face, replaced a moment later by the room's intermittent breeze. Case avoided the pools of soaked carpet as they got to the front, Hane noticing something among the shatterings.

On the window's frame around where one side of its blinds had been shot loose, a shard in its bottom had a coating of blood, and a trail leading up the stairs. It wasn't a mystery who would cut themselves on broken glass.

The... environment of the second floor hall was... different; nowhere else seemed to have any effect on it. Climate turned thick and warm as fog at a moment, sickening, unbearable stench clogging him so bad he covered his face, wolf blinking constantly to keep his vision clear. Their soles squelched blood from the floor - Case, whenever he shifted, and Hane, as he went door to door. It took time, but not a lot. For all of it Case did what he could to keep them safe, and Red sat where he would until some pack of animals tore him apart.

They started down the closest stairs... They were leaving, and Navy wasn't with them.

Untouched, Hane turned to him. He was waiting.

"... Well?" the wolf prompted. Case got a look as though Hane had already given an answer. So, he continued to spell it out, "We know she was here. What now?"

Hane budged. "Might have been here. Could be someone else. Maybe they dragged her off already. If not, she could still be anywhere."

No words came to mind. He waited for more, and it seemed there was none. Why the fuck was Hane acting like he needed orders to keep looking?! She'd been there. It was that very night Navy had left and there was only so far she could go, they just had to know where... and yet Hane was hung up on "if" like that was really a question worth asking...

...

... Case went into the first room on the right, flung its door closed, took the calendar off its back, went to Hane, shoved it against his chest, and ordered, "That wasn't there before."

Abiding, Hane exacted, "... We'll search Marietta. At dawn we'll check the woods."

... Somewhere along the way to the one other place they'd have to recheck, and as they did so, Case tried to reason through... Well, he wondered why Hane was putting him forward like he should have a say in any of this. Case knew her, yeah, but not to the point he could just divine where she'd go... Or, he newly guessed, that was an outright misread of what his superior was thinking - that he had any say in what Hane did wasn't the intent, instead... some other design the commander didn't feel like explaining (perhaps for the sake of time?) maneuvered them. Not understanding what the man intended was common enough, and the reasons Case had appeared to make sense... So, if true, he ought to quit this, do as he was told, answer whatever he asked, and, in doing so, trust Hane as he always had.

Clear. Next building.

The church's main hall was untouched. Every pew was aligned as it should be, a couple ancient corpses scattered exactly where they often were. Two rooms were locked, one next to the other: a walk-in storage closet packed neatly with books sorted by topic, self-preserved food, tools to repair, tools to build, tools to break, clothes arranged by color, a weapon for every range, every length of hunting knife, and hundreds of rounds on display, each thing immaculately maintained: the tower's bottom floor beside was empty spare two hand-weights and the spiraling stairs. A bell hung over the top floor, a thermos, jar of broth, rifle-mount, and frameless mattress as the only four objects to accompany it and the thing that once lived there.

... And, at no point did it seem someone else had visited.

Across was the office. Searching it for someone that didn't want to be found would take a while. Inside were cubicles, wall-lining workspaces shuttered from being seen into, small rooms used to keep whatever they needed, cubbies to hide away in, places someone small could squeeze behind if they really wanted to, countless things blocking sightlines in every direction... And it was empty.

He and Hane ran further that time to get into the town's center. They stopped at a gas station. Its handle had to be cracked to get in. Nobody was there.

Someone's diner was broken into next. Someone died in the back room from what looked like no injuries - they starved, or died by some natural means, and more recently than the people out front.

No one living was at the mechanic.

No one living was at the hardware store.

In dozens of storage units, they only found someone that killed themself.

Tracks weren't seen anywhere. The streets were empty.

...

A break in the sky's deep blackish blue made Case pause. It turned pink, then orange.

He followed Hane as the sun first rose.

...

It was empty.

...

Nobody had been there.

...

Hane went still, and Case, too. The elder pulled his hand from not-quite-dry blood on the door handle. It was a news station, or the tall antenna gave away at least it was some place people broadcast from. There was no reason to be there.

Before going in, Hane signed clearly, "Follow."

He did, and they entered without issue. No more than a few rooms and a front desk were inside, a short hall connecting the back to the front reception and desks. The shepherd went to the open door on their left, even though there were others closed before it, and looked in.

... Whatever was in there made Hane's expression loosen... soften, and he stepped aside for Case, back to the wall.

Navy was there, standing by one of many record shelves, in her eyes turned from him a look utterly blank, posture swaying between faint at her strongest and debilitated at the lowest, constant drips of blood from her left palm invoking a jolt like someone pricked her with a needle, sleepless, feverish languor broken by that and that only. Not really looking at anything, she was mouthing words too quiet to hear.

Like she'd started this a thousand times, Navy practiced to herself, "Case, you... you..." She tried again. "Case, I... I-I'm sorry for leaving like that... but it's o-okay. Mum said if I got into an ar... an argument, then I should try to find out... Stupid."

The girl went quiet. She went back to her empty gaze, lost... somewhere.

"I..." squeaked out of Navy. Something upset her. One good hand supported the girl without a thought given.

... The dripping had stopped. Navy slowly withdrew her hand, the sound of dark crimson's wet grab on the box of papers coming undone, though not the substance itself, the thick liquid infused into the tight fabric cover the moment it touched.

Her eyes widened. Something woke her up. Breaths were happening too fast. The girl went rigid as metal from toes to ears, unblinking. A twitch found its way into her eye - into her head... and blood dripped again. The arm she could use latched onto her face and used every vibrating shred of muscular, animalistic force to rip something off, impotent frenzy scruffing her fur and lacing it with blood as it searched for that thing it was looking for. Her teeth borne - her teeth borne ready to tear the first flesh that dared cross her senses - agonized, petulant shrieks erupted from their locked-shut betweens. The arm she couldn't use flailed, just not hard enough to break its sling.

No part of her mess stopped, Navy sooner bashing the shelf with her full weight, bruises deepened all the way to bone and further wherever the racks happened to connect, no pain he knew she felt putting any reason in her head to start caring. But nothing had broken yet; nothing ripped in half, or bent in a way it could never be used again. She screamed inside and pushed the thing over, falling over with it onto her back, the sheer, pounding reverberation of concrete on iron it had in the small room drowning whatever she said, both hands allowed to grab however they could at her face and neck, her first sounds returning that of boots kicking and whining on the floor, their spirit taken from her developed, cracking shrills.

In one instant she sprang upright and forward to the shelf across, the motion only possible because of outright disregard for whatever cuts it gave her. Her forehead directly cracked on it, limbs used to push whatever was in their way out of it so she could grip the other side.

"NO I'M NOT! SHUTUPSHUTUPSHUTUP! I WAnted... I was trying to..."

Her voice wavered, yet was resolute. "HE was MEAN. I was TRYING to be NICE, and he was just an ASSHOLE all the fucking time! They're all huge JERKS AND I should've NEVER talked to them EVER. I should've s-said 'GO AWAY!!' and..."

... Sniffles became clearer as a slump overtook her. She gradually put all hope of staying upright on the shelf. In a couple minutes, she said unthinkingly in a long, high-pitched groan, "... ow..."

... Eliciting a bold, body-wide tense, Case said, "Navy...?"

She stayed looking away in blatant shame. Then she, gouged from her support, showed the lurid fumes behind her dusky irises. She whispered it first.

"I... h-hate you. I HATE you! I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I FUCKING HATE YOU! Leave RIGHT FUCKING NOW! OR, actually, take your gun, PUT IT TO YOUR FUCKING HEAD AND KILL YOURSELF. I DON'T CARE. Here, now, later, DON'T CARE. FUCK IT; let me BLOW YOUR FUCKING HEAD OFF JUST SO I KNOW A WORTHLESS PIECE OF SHIT THAT SHOULD"VE NEVER LIVED ANYWAY IS FINALLY FUCKING DEAD. WHERE. HE. SHOULD. BE."

Louder than ever, she screamed in pain, "JUST LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE!"