11:21 AM: Mock Battle.
As Shane’s call to begin rang out, Clay lightly nudged Ophelia and suggested “Look, we need to stick together and stick to cover-.”
A moment before he could finish his thought, Ophelia rushed straight ahead.
Dumb ass! What the hell is your issue?! Clay complained to himself as he was at a loss for what to do now. On the one hand, his previous attempts to attack the Jerk Squad head-on led to quick and painful defeats, so Clay figured that hiding in cover would be best because even if they broke the cover, they would still have to come to him, giving him the initiative.
Though despite the extreme gap in skill between his own and the Jerk Squad’s, maybe Ophelia’s backup will even that out? Despite not looking much older than him (maybe a couple years younger than him), she seems to have experience with combat, more than Clay anyway. Maybe-
Suddenly, while Clay was still in thought, one of the Jerk Squad fired off a shot. The loud and immediate pop would have been enough to take Clay off his feet but the sharp and burning sting of a BB landing a direct hit to his forehead did the job.
As Clay’s head bounced off the hard, dry desert ground, Dixon ran up to his downed body and pointed his BB gun down at his head.
“Bang! Yer Dead! Now stay down. I really don wanta waste ammo on no zombies.” Dixon declared, a sadistic grin on his face as Jean ran into Clay’s view.
“Over already?” Jean asked Dixon as he came to a stop and looked down at Clay.
“Use yer eyes Frenchy. How’s the Asian bitch doing?” Dixon asked belligerently.
“That is no way you address a woman. She has a name American. Use it.” Jean defended his fellow instructor for hire.
“As soon as you use mine Frenchy.” Dixon deflected, not even looking at Jean as he talked to him. His gaze and BB gun still focused on Clay.
“You only gain the respect that you earn.” Jean chastised Dixon.
“Yeah, yeah. The only ass I’m willin’ ta kiss is the one writin’ my checks, ya hear?” Dixon responded.
“….. Greedy Fils de pute. It’s always about money with you Americans.”
“Anyhow, answer my gawd damn question. Are we done here or not?” Dixon once again asked Jean, brushing off his co-workers’ insults.
“I should say so. See for yourself.” Jean answered after he turned his back toward Dixon and looked out to the distance.
“Can’t. Don’t want to risk any undead cheap shots. Give me the low down.” Dixon requested, unwilling to divert his attention away from Clay.
“Well, I will just say that Shiki has the girl…. Locked down, so to say.” Jean vaguely described the picture of Shiki having Ophelia pinned to the ground by standing on her back with one foot and holding onto her arms like the handles of a motorcycle.
“Ow…. Sounds like something you would do.” Clay responded to Dixon’s previous comment as he lay on the ground and rubbed the back of his head.
“You bet your ass I would, Speedy,” Dixon answered with a grin on his face.
“Not very fair, is it? Then again, this whole thing is three against two….” Clay stated as he sat back up. Just before Clay could get back on his feet, Dixon stomped on his right hand, causing him to shout in pain.
“The Bossman hired me as an instructor so it’s high time I spelled out a lesson for ya Speedy. ‘Fair’ is only for those in the grave. Those that live, struggle. Ya hear?” Dixon explained as he ground his boot into the back of Clay’s hand.
“hé, ça suffit!“ Jean shouts at his coworker.
“Sorry, I flunked French…. I don’t know how many years ago. Say that again in English.”
“He said ‘Hey, that’s enough’. Something I concur with.” Shane suddenly told Dixon, who, along with Jean, turned around in shock.
“Yes sir! Just doing my job, Sir!” Dixon quickly relented, dragging his foot off Clay’s hand and clasping his own behind his back, standing at attention.
“Jesus Dix, one minute you’re beating on the kid and calling us names then bowing to your money mark the next. A real ‘soldier of fortune’ you are.” Shiki snidely commented as she walked onto the scene with Ophelia in tow. Realizing the potential discourtesy she may have thrown at her own boss, Shiki quickly added “No offense boss.”
“None taken,” Shane answered as he adjusted his sunglasses and walked past Jean and Dixon, and reached his hand down toward Clay.
“What happened there? You looked…. lost.” Shane asks Clay who grabbed his hand and pulled himself off the ground.
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“I’d… rather not say,” Clay responded with irritation in his voice as he brushed the dirt and dust on his clothes, his eye catching a large, purple bruise on the back of his throbbing hand.
“Well… I’ll respect your request…. for now.” Shane forebodingly concluded as he and the Jerk Squad walked back to the RV camp.
“A-are you ok?” Ophelia sheepishly asked, having broken away from Shiki.
“No comment.” Clay bitterly brushed her off as he started walking away from her and towards Shane and the Jerk Squad.
“Look, I’m sorry damn it!” Ophelia shouted.
“For what?” Clay coldly asked, having come to a stop after hearing her sudden apology.
“For running off on my own in the mock battle. What else would it be?” Ophelia hastily explained.
“Are you really that dense? Sorry to let you know but point-blank shoots to the head don’t cause amnesia.” Clay angrily snarked.
“…. I already apologized for that. How many times will it take for you to get over that?” Ophelia timidly asked Clay, her hands shaking as she looked away from the man she was apologizing to.
“What? No edgy comeback? No ‘I only shot you a few weeks ago, get over it’-“
Before Clay could finish rubbing in Ophelia’s silence, she slapped the taste out of his mouth.
“You bit-!”
“Ok guys, that’s enough. Don’t do anything you would regret Clay.” Shane advised, having suddenly gotten in between Ophelia and Clay despite seemingly moving ahead of them a while ago.
“How the hell-?”
“And you need to stop Phil. You’ve done enough.” Shane interrupted and vaguely scolded Ophelia. All Ophelia can do is look down at her hand, look at the slap mark on Clay’s cheek, and storm off toward the campsite.
“What the hell is wrong with her?” Clay asked in irritation.
“Let’s just say, guilt is something of a new feeling for Phil,” Shane suggested to Clay as they walked back towards the RV camp themselves.
“I don’t think I’ll ever understand her,” Clay stated, despite realizing his words sounded like a cliché line in a shitty teen show after saying them. Though in this case, even if cliché, Clay did not want to mince his words.
“Have you ever thought that she feels the same way about you?” Shane asked Clay as they made their way closer to the camp.
“What does that have to do with anything? Not only does she try to kill me- right after I carried her injured ass might I add- but she goes all ‘lone wolf’ on me before I can do or come up with anything. And I’m the one that needs to figure out ‘how she feels’?!” Clay ranted.
“You two are more alike than I thought…” Shane commented under his breath.
“Huh?” Clay asked after hearing Shane’s mumble.
“It’s nothing. Just be patient with her. And I will ask that she be patient with you. Can you do that?” Shane asked.
“I…. can try….” Clay relented, a small frustration forming within him as Clay started to realize how much his friend was asking of him for either no reward or a reward that he could not imagine.
“By the way, how the hell did you get back here so fast? You were way ahead of me and Ophelia.” Clay asked.
“…… Who knows.” Shane ‘answers’, as he starts to walk ahead of Clay as they both make it back to camp.
11:40 PM: Bedtime:
Despite having spent her entire life always on the move, killing corrupted monsters with nothing but her wits and skills forged from the desire to survive, Ophelia had never been more tired than she had been after just this one day of training. Her muscles have never been sorer, with both her wrists from shooting and her arms and legs from CQC.
Though at least she was rewarded at the end of the day with the most comfortable bed she ever laid upon. Ophelia could not understand how Clay could complain that the beds within their designated RV were stiff and uncomfortable. It sure beats the hell out of sleeping on hard, dusty, dirty floors.
As she thought about Clay, Ophelia realized that she could not hear Clay’s loud snoring that normally filled the RV around this time. For most people, being free of the overwhelming loudness of Clay’s snoring would be a welcome relief but for Ophelia, the silence alarmed her.
Despite wanting to sleep, Ophelia’s concern would not allow her to. So, she decided to check on Clay.
The first thing Ophelia did after getting out of bed was climb up the bunk to see if Clay was in his bed. When she reached the top of the ladder, Ophelia took the phone Shane gave her out of the pocket of her sweatpants and turned on the flashlight.
Ophelia quickly found that Clay was not in his bed. Having checked the most obvious place Clay could be, Ophelia climbed down the ladder and walked toward the small living room area of the RV, which included a small kitchen section and an exit on the right side, and a brown couch all along the left side. Usually, if Clay was not sleeping on the top bunk, he was crashing on the couch, which he has said before is more comfortable than the beds on the bunk, something Ophelia has yet to test herself.
As Ophelia flashes the light of her cell phone across the couch, she cannot find Clay despite moving her light back and forth 3 times. Though she was annoyed that Clay was not in the RV, she still breathed a small sigh of relief. Though they were not on the best terms right now, Ophelia did not want to see yet another dead Clayton Alverez.
After grabbing and putting on the sweatshirt part of the white sweatsuit she had been wearing all day, Ophelia moved toward the exit of the RV. Suddenly, she heard a noise that made the hair on the back of her neck stand up: the buzzing of flies.
When she cracked the door open, leaned her head near it, and took a peek outside, Ophelia saw a group of 4 flies move past the RV.
“What the hell…...?” Ophelia wondered aloud, as she quickly yet carefully walked down the short black metal steps and followed the group of flies. Soon, as Ophelia chased after the flies, she realized that she was a ways off from the RV camp.
Clay…. What are you thinking? Ophelia asked herself as she ran across the dry lakebed at night, no longer having to be worried about the oppressive sun bearing down on her.
Finally, the flies stopped at a trail of tire tracks, surrounding a figure that stood atop a small sloop of rocks. Upon seeing this, Ophelia came to a sudden stop, got down on the ground, and started to crawl as close as she could to the figure she suspected was Clay.
As she crawled closer and closer toward the swarm of flies, sweat began to flow from Ophelia’s forehead which she could also feel on her back. Whether this was due to her run through the dry lakebed or all too familiar nerves, she could not say. Thankfully, despite the sweat on Ophelia’s body, the flies ignored her.
As Ophelia got closer to the shadowy figure, it pointed at one of the many flies that swarmed around it. After a couple minutes, Ophelia heard over the sound of loud buzzing “GROW!”
Suddenly, one of the flies was engulfed in purple light, which popped in a blindingly bright flash that did not make any noise, like lightning without thunder. And just like that, one of the many flies was transformed from the tiny insects of Clay’s reality to one of the horrifying monstrosities of Ophelia’s.
After seeing this monstrous transformation, Ophelia got up immediately and called out to Clay, who immediately turned his gaze to her.
“WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?!” Ophelia yells.