|
|
Post by Brooklyn Wilde on May 5, 2009 18:16:47 GMT -5
Brooklyn crossed her arms over her chest, cocking her head to the side a bit. "Zacharias, eh? Does Zacharias have a last name?" she asked him. She doubted that was his name. Wasn't exactly sure why, though. Probably because coincidences like that didn't really exist. She stayed leaning against the tree, studying him. Looking for a name somewhere on his uniform. Each uniform has a place for you name. Hers was clearly stated on hers. Well, not quite. She looked down, and noticed it was dirty. She brushed it off, sighing. She wanted to be clean, for once.
She looked over his uniform, closely. Bingo. All these little things are very usual, could happen to anyone. But it all added up. She fixed a unrelenting stare on him. It was quiet for a few moments, then she realized he asked her a question. Oops. There she goes again, not really paying attention to her surroundings. The only time she did was when she was flying for the RAF.
"Brooklyn Wilde," she stated. "Let's try again with your name, though, fella." She could be wrong. But most of the times her instincts weren't wrong. He couldn't very well lie, too. She didn't see the point, though.
|
|
|
|
Post by USMC GySgt Preston Davis on May 6, 2009 14:15:43 GMT -5
Preston raised an eyebrow at her. "Zacharias does, in fact, have a last name. And I know what you'll be thinking if you aren't already. Preston Davis, the Marine who killed the President, is my cousin. My last name is also Davis. Ian was his brother. Ian also happened to be the name of my adopted brother. We called him 'red' when our families got together, 'cause he was always wearing red shirts. And, lastly, I killed my father after he killed my mom, not because he was the President of the United States of America. I joined the Marine Corps when Preston did. Got that?"
Sometimes Preston didn't mind giving out his name or did it without thinking. But some people he couldn't help but lie to. Fortunately, lying was something Preston was good at. If he wasn't, he'd be screwed, with all the lying he did. Uncountable were the number of people he told he couldn't shoot down a deer for food, so that they would stop hounding him for food. He had told lies to his brother, too, but mostly to his parents, father in particular. His mother wasn't quite as bad, and he hadn't lied to her as much, but he still had. Sometimes you just have to lie to survive.
|
|
|
|
Post by Brooklyn Wilde on May 6, 2009 19:22:39 GMT -5
Brooklyn sighed. Of course he wouldn't admit it. Well, it was common sense, really. Everyone knew him, knew what he did. Most likely people would be begging him for food and the like. Not like that didn't happen already, with his Marines uniform. But it would intensify, no doubt.
"Oh, right," she said, sarcastically. "That was a rather long explanation. If it was the truth, you wouldn't feel the need to explain all that in your defense. But the fact that you went so far as to say a nick-name for him, and why you killed your father, well, I doubt you have a cousin by that name. The quick to defend are always hiding something. Besides, people don't just hand out information like that." And having a cousin and an adopted brother of the same name? Could happen, but not likely.
She ran a hand through her hair, bending her knee a bit to take the weight off her foot. Her shoes were too worn for comfort. So, she sat down, in what was left of a patch of grass. It didn't really matter anyway as she will still dirty. Oh well. She leaned back on her hands, squinting her eyes a bit from the sun.
|
|
|
|
Post by USMC GySgt Preston Davis on May 6, 2009 19:36:19 GMT -5
Preston sighed. "Or maybe, I told you so you wouldn't harass me with any more questions. Instead, I'm getting harassed with accusations. Besides, it's the truth." The best part was, Preston did have a cousin named Zacharias Davis, who had an adopted brother Ian and who wore red shirts and was nicknamed Red. Zacharias was in the Marines, too, and he had killed his father after his father killed his mother. The only lie was that Preston Davis was Preston Davis, not Zacharias Davis. But then something else hit him. Nobody knew that Preston Davis had a busted leg. They didn't know about his cane.
"Besides, Preston" -Preston stood up, grunting in pain- "isn't injured." Tyson pushed Preston the cane with his nose, and Preston carefully bent down to pick it up. "I am. Can't use my leg, but it's better to have it than not to. Plus I'm not going to Switzerland solely to get my leg amputated."
The best hospitals were in Switzerland, though they weren't nearly as nice as some had once been. Switzerland, however, was recovering. They were the nicest place to live, so had a high population. Desperate to live, those people had worked together to rebuild everything that could be rebuilt. Switzerland was on it's way back up. The people in Kansas didn't have that kind of will. It was going no where.
|
|
|
|
Post by Brooklyn Wilde on May 6, 2009 21:03:40 GMT -5
Brooklyn pursed her lips, thinking. "Whatever you say, bucko." Personally, she didn't believe it. Not because she was so sure he was lying- if he was, he was somewhat good at it- but rather she was stubborn. She also hated being wrong, about anything. She was stubborn at not being wrong, if that made sense. And of course, there was always her gut feeling.
She watched as Zacharias, she mentally rolled her eyes at the name, got up, obviously in pain. Hmm... maybe he had a point. No one knew what had happened to Preston, and certainly not if he was injured or not. But maybe that was exactly it. "Is the whole world supposed to know every detail about Preston Davis? He could be injured, he could be healthy. He could have a injured leg, or maybe he doesn't." She didn't comment further on it, though. She would find out one way or the other. It would drive her crazy till she knew.
"So, what happened to your leg?" she asked, trying to keep the curiosity out of her voice. She could understand his saying about not going to Switzerland for that reason alone. It was better than most places. A lot more food and shelter, too. But hard to get over there for most people.
|
|
|
|
Post by USMC GySgt Preston Davis on May 7, 2009 14:51:45 GMT -5
Preston started to limp away, in the opposite direction from his shelter. Tyson grabbed the pillow his master had been resting on in his teeth and trotted after him. "You've never seen the video?" Every once in a while, you found a person with a computer and a place you could still get internet access, especially immediately after the war. Sites were rundown and out of date, but the video of Preston Davis was everywhere. He was the main reason the war ended. After shooting his father, he stood up and was bombarded with joyful Marines. Amped up on painkillers, he could stand on his leg at least semi- normally, but he did collapse under their weight. The cane was never shown.
"Shrapnel from a grenade lobbed into my sniper's nest. As a sniper, most of the time I was pretty far from the people I was shooting at, but an enemy, a German soldier, had snuck up on my sniper's nest from behind and lobbed a grenade into it. If I had been two seconds slower, well, I wouldn't have survived, let alone used my leg again." Preston never looked back. If she wanted to follow him, she would. If not, he could double back later and go to his hidden shelter.
|
|
|
|
Post by Brooklyn Wilde on May 7, 2009 18:09:04 GMT -5
Brooklyn shook her head. "No, I haven't. For one, I'm not going to watch a video, and basically stalk, someone I have never met. No matter who they are. Two, I don't get online much. Well, I didn't. It's almost impossible to do nowadays anyway. Besides, the video isn't set in stone. It could have happened after. You just never know."
She watched as he got up suddenly. Kind of odd. She raised an eyebrow as the dog immediately followed. She was curious as to where he was going. She had much better things to do with her time- like hunt for food, or make sure no one had stolen her stuff. Or sleep. Sleep was always good. But as they say, curiosity killed the cat. She stood up, and began following him, several feet behind. He probably wanted to be left alone, but Brooklyn paid no attention to the comfort of others.
"It happens to everyone," she said brusquely. "Well, most." There were many casualties like that in the war. Sad, really. That would be a difficult choice- choosing pain, or having only one leg. But it's life. She watched the ground as she walked, so she wouldn't trip.
|
|
|
|
Post by USMC GySgt Preston Davis on May 9, 2009 10:48:35 GMT -5
Preston shrugged. "So it's your fault, then, that you don't know who Preston Davis is, not mine. I'm not him, so get over it already. Now leave. Me. Alone." He paused a moment so she could catch up, then smacked her across the shins with his cane, hard. Definitely hard enough to leave two shiny black bruises, one on each leg. Then he continued to limp on away from his camp, and from the place where he normally hunted. He had never seen anyone else there, apart form the deer he hunted, so it was his favorite place. No, Preston didn't go there. he headed for the city instead.
He wanted to go back to his shelter, of course. He had a tent set up under ground, underneath a rock roof. It was a real nice set up, and it looked natural from any angle, unless you knew exactly what it was. It was made very carefully, and took a very long time to put together. Setting up the tent inside the whole might have been the hardest part, because it had to be done just so. Inside was a sleeping bag, whatever spare food Preston had, and his duffel bag. His duffel contained two spare sets of all-black clothes, two pistols, a tennis ball for Tyson, and the dog's spare leash and collar.
|
|
