#let the man have his weird weed smoking off the grid outbreak free commune that he insists isn't 'his' commune

[flatstarcarcosa]

They’ve barely had time to register the alarm ringing when Soldier Boy’s hand is clenched around their throat as he slams them into the wall.

“Who sent you?” he growls. His grip tightens, and Reese tries ineffectually to pry at his fingers.

“No one,” they gasp.

“Bullshit,” he snarls. “You show up asking very specific questions about very specific topics, and two hours later we’ve got infected inside my fucking fence?”

He bounces their head against the wall, and pulls the knife at his hip.

“Unless you want me to gut you and use what falls out as redirect bait, you better start answering,” he says.

“No one!”

“Bullshit!” he snaps again.

It’s then that he suddenly notices the emblem on the arm of their sunglasses; a small, silver V that makes him pause. His hold on them loosens.

“I- I didn’t-” says Reese.

“Close your eyes,” he says, gruffly.

Behind the black lenses, they blink.

“What?”

“Close your fucking eyes,” he snaps.

Confused, but acutely aware of the blade against their ribs, they comply. He lets go of their throat to yank the glasses of their face. Snapping the arm causes a small silver disc, roughly the size of one of the screw heads holding the frame together, to fall to the floor.

“Fucking Vought,” he hisses, before calling over his shoulder, “someone get me a pair of goddamn UV blockers!”

A moment later the uncomfortable, albeit familiar, feeling of plastic pinching the bridge of their nose and corners of their eyes settles into place.

“I liked those fucking sunglasses,” Reese snaps, opening their eyes. There’s a brief moment of disorientation as they adjust to the UV blockers. As the name implies, they block more light than glasses do, at the cost of feeling like they’re peeling the skin from your fucking face.

“Those sunglasses were bugged,” he says. He sheaths his knife, picks up a .45 from the table, and checks the magazine. “Someone’s known every move you’ve made since you bought them.”

“I didn’t,” they say. “I got them as a gift.”

He stops. “What?”

Gunshots echo faintly from outside. It’s a matter of seconds until the screaming follows them. Later, when the dead are ash and the ashes are bleached to the point of rendering the entire area lifeless for decades, he’ll find time to be pissed about several years without an outbreak getting ruined within three short hours.

“The retinal KA group, the whole reason I started on this, a bunch of us got them as gifts,” says Reese, adding, “anonymously donated.”

Soldier Boy’s lip curls.

He’d wanted to tell them they were chasing delusions, getting caught up in patterns that weren’t there, and have them fuck back off to wherever they came from. They show up with anecdotal stories and, at best, circumstantial evidence that people with reservoir conditions are disappearing at higher rates than normal people and he knows he wants nothing to do with it.

Ten minutes ago he could have confidently told them they were imagining it, but an entire group of the bastards getting an anonymous gift from Vought that’s carrying tracking devices is the kind of simple math even he can’t brush off.

The screaming begins to follow the gunshots. He passes them the .45 and crosses the room to pull another one from a weapons rack.

“You certified for that?” he asks, not really caring about the answer either way.

“Much as I can be while going blind every day,” they drawl.

“I’m gonna find where they broke through the fencing and plug the hole,” he says, pulling down a second gun.

“By yourself?” asks Reese.

“Cull whatever’s dead inside, and anyone about to be dead,” he continues, ignoring their question.

“Don’t your people need to know this, too?” they ask.

“They’re not my people,” he says sharply, adding, “and you’re the only one here who doesn’t know our outbreak protocol.”

“What?” they ask again.

Soldier Boy offers no further instructions, nor explanations. He pulls a shield from a spot closer to the door, and then kicks it open. Gunfire and screams amplify in volume, and Reese can’t help the way their gut flips in response.

They were born after the Rising. They’ve done enough field training for their weapons certifications, but it’s still not the same as a real outbreak. They blink, and Soldier Boy has disappeared into the chaos, leaving them no choice but to ready the weapon and step into it after him.