Jack was the last one on watch, which suited her just fine. It was right around the time she got up in the morning anyway, so it didn’t phase her much. Watching outside the window as the sun rose, she briefly felt like the whole last few days had been nothing more than a damn dream. Then she gripped Francis’ pistol in her palm and was woken up into another nightmare. She looked over at the group, all sprawled out, all looking distant from their troubles. She hated waking them, but decided to bite the bullet and reached forward, shaking Rarity’s shoulder.
“Rare,” Jack spoke in a half-whisper, trying for once not to startle the tailor awake.
Though they could probably spare an hour or so before getting everyone up, the quiet was getting to Jack. Having someone’s presence at the ready was something that’d do a lot of good. She had just about given up on Rarity when the tailor shifted, letting out a displeased groan.
Shuffling around, Rarity tried to find comfort yet again, but felt nothing but straw poking through her clothes. Finally turning to her back, she opened both eyes slowly, grimacing as she became somewhat awake. “I forgot about this part,” she grumbled. “It seems like just a few minutes ago I was waking you, Jack.” She yawned and rubbed at her eyes.
“How the tables have turned,” Jack said. Rarity rubbing her eyes made Jack subconsciously reach up, running a thumb over her nose. “Ya alright?”
“I’d be better with a shower, fresh clothes, morning tea and”—here her stomach rumbled—“breakfast. But I shan’t complain as long as it’s safe.”
“I know what ya mean ‘bout a shower,” Jack agreed. “I’d kill fer one too.” She glanced out of the window. “Maybe they’ll have a garden hose ‘round the barn. Could use that,” she suggested with a bit of a joking smile. “It’d wake ya up quick enough.”
Jolting upright, Rarity quickly said, “I’m awake, I’m awake…” She stood, wiping straw from her clothes. Carefully, she reached down the front of her shirt, removing an especially annoying piece. “While a bit more comfortable than expected, the downsides to a straw bed are obvious. Let’s not do this again, yes?”
“Well, I’m more of a mattress gal myself, no matter how often I heard tha phrase ‘roll in the hay’ thrown my way,” Jack agreed. After a beat she snorted and reached forward, plucking a long strand of hay from Rarity’s hair.
“Thank you,” the tailor said stiffly. “Well, let’s wake the boys and be off, then perhaps we won’t have to resort to a hose.”
They rose the two easily enough and left the barn. Francis looked between the three and crossed his arms.
“I suppose a walk to our vehicles is in order,” he said. Jack rubbed the back of her neck.
“Well, ya’d think that, but the truck didn’t make it last night,” the farmer muttered out.
“You had a wreck?” Spike asked, surprised. “But you’re a great driver.”
“Did it on purpose. Was the only way I could think of ta get those damn things offa me.”
“Believe me, darling, there was little choice,” Rarity added. Then she frowned. “Does this mean what I fear it means?”
“Well, I’m afraid so. Is there anything that’s salvageable from the truck? Clothing, ammunition, provisions?” Francis asked, then looked down at Rarity’s feet. “Non-heeled shoes?”
“No ammo, no,” Jack said. “Though I know Rarity did have some clothes with her, I think that’d include shoes.” She raised a brow at the woman in question. “Right?”
Dejectedly, Rarity replied, “Yes… Let it not be said I always put form above function.”
“Well, any function in your presence becomes form too, my dear,” Francis said with a warm smile, raising a finger up to empathize his position. “Very few can have their cake and eat it too, you should consider yourself lucky!”
“We should consider ourselves lucky if she don’t complain every step of the way,” Jack mumbled out.
“I heard that, Jack Apple!”
It took them some time, but they made it back to their improvised campground from last night. The grounds had been ransacked by the creatures, torn cloth and bags lay shredded on the ground. Francis’ bike was tipped over, the contents of a satchel on the back spilled out and littering the ground.
“Well!” Francis said, clapping his hands together. “We shouldn’t dally. Time is short, after all. Gather everything you’d feel comfortable carrying on a long hike. Ladies, I’ll leave you to gathering what you find from the truck, wherever it is. Spike is going to help me strip the motorcycle for anything that may assist us.”
“Ya could jus’ drive you an’ the boy farther ahead instead, Francis,” Jack said, raising a brow. Francis quickly shook his head.
“Nonsense. A man does not leave a woman twisting in the breeze. Besides, while I’m sure you’re familiar with some travel, I was a bit of an outdoorsman in my day. I feel like I could be some use to you.”
“Well, you’ve been a great help already. But, sure. Might be fer the best.”
“Seconded,” agreed Rarity as she looked about. “I forget, Jack, which way is the truck? Last night was… hazy, to say the least.”
“I wish it was a bit more hazy. I wish we could jus’ drink ‘til it was a blur.” She pointed west down the road they came from yesterday and started walking. “When we get ta the capital, I think I’m gonna do jus’ that. Crawl in a bottle an’ shut off the lights.”
Rarity said, “I’m split on agreeing with you and scolding you. We all need our escapes, I suppose. Especially from this.”
“Well, let me know if ya want in the bottle too, there might be enough room fer one more.” Jack focused on the road in front of them. That was all she could do right now, distance herself from everything she could in a very real sense. The thought of last night, of being out there with… everything that had happened left a cold pit in the center of her stomach, and the thought of it happening again tonight made her entire body tense up.
“Thanks,” Jack said quietly, not looking towards the tailor. “I’m glad yer around. If I had been alone through this… well, I dunno.”
“You’d worry yourself into the deepest rut,” Rarity said, somewhat smugly. “Think nothing of it, Jack. You’ll keep us alive, but I’ll keep our spirits high as they can, alright?”
“Sure, sug. We’ll try that.”
They made their way to the truck. It lay as Jack left it last night: smashed hard against another car, it's frame bowed in hard and in no shape to drive.
“Well, at least Pa ain’t around ta see his truck like this,” Jack said, sighing as she looked over the wreck. “He woulda grounded me until I was thirty.”
“Don’t be too hard on yourself, dear. It’s served well, hasn’t it?”
“Did it's tour of duty an’ then some.” She cocked a thumb to the bed. “Let’s grab what we need—what we need,” she stressed.
With the roll of her eyes, Rarity replied, “Fine, fine.”
After a moment of digging, Jack gathered what she needed, namely a set of fresh clothes to change into, a compass, a small fire starting kit—girl scouts was finally paying off—and, lastly, some hygiene products. She wasn’t a high maintenance girl, but there were just a few things she felt like she needed on the road. Satisfied with her packing, she looked over to Rarity.
“How’s it comin’ along?” Jack asked, doing a once-over to make sure she was good to go and then hesitantly ejecting the Cash tape from the cassette player, pocketing it.
“I’ve all the essentials, I think,” Rarity said, looking over at the small—much smaller than she wished—pile behind her. “But drat it all, my eyeliner seems to have spilled over everything. And I really can’t decide: Do I take the simple but classic skirt and leggings, or the more casual pants? They don’t really match with my traveling shoes…”
“Your ‘travelin’ shoes’ better not be heels. An’ a skirt won’t do ya no good if a stiff breeze catches ya, wear pants. Think practical fer once in yer life, Rare,” Jack bemoaned, rubbing the bridge of her nose. “Did ya even pack anythin’ we can use?”
“I’m not an idiot, Jack, of course they’re not heels.” Rarity huffed. “And of course! Though it may not seem obvious to you. I’ve a small sewing kit, a few rolls of cloth I could never leave behind, some thicker thread and the needle for it… A few pins and spare needles, regular-sized those, a small flashlight… A few other bits and bobs and whatever seemed like it might be useful.”
“That’s better than I’d expect from ya. No offense.” Jack tapped the frame of the truck. “I’m gonna change real quick, then I guess we can head.”
“Just you stay on your side of the truck, and I’ll change as well.”
Jack gave a small, toothy grin Rarity’s way. “Stay on my end? Ya afraid I’ll sneak a peek or somethin’?”
“I’m already changing in the wilderness, for God’s sake. Blame me for wanting what privacy I can get…” She trailed off, her voice muffled by the changing of her shirt.
“Can’t say I’m enjoyin’ it either,” Jack agreed, stripping off her pants and tossing them to the side. “Jus’ better hope ya don’t have ta take a piss while we’re out an’ about.”
“You’re really the worst, Jack Apple.” Rarity sighed. “But it won’t be the first time, I suppose.”
Jack snorted, slipping on a pair of boxers. “You’ve done that before? Really?” She shook her head in disbelief. “Miss prim an’ proper herself? Should I even ask when that happened?”
“Oh that’s right, you weren’t there.” Rarity gave a small smile, happier days and pleasant memories warming her despite the autumn chill. “I’m sure I must’ve at least mentioned that camping trip, with Dash and the girls?”
Jack looked over, putting a fist to a palm in realization.“Oh! That one where I was off down in Bower City with the family, right?” After a beat, she started tugging on her jeans. “Yeah, I think Chylene mentioned it ta me the day I got home.”
“It was something else,” Rarity remarked, dragging on the thicker, but slightly tight pants she had grabbed more as an afterthought. Why wasn’t I aware my winter wardrobe was in such a need for an update? she thought glumly. Finally, pulling the stubborn pants in place, she took a careful seat on the grass and began lacing up the shoes. “But the girls had such a good time, it was more than worth it. So worry not, Jack, I’m not a complete stranger to this sort of thing.”
“Jus’ full-a surprises, ain’t ya?” Jack questioned. From the other side of the truck, Rarity heard a complaint of “Fuckin’ bras,” muttered under her breath, and then a moment later, Jack moved into sight, rolling a shirt down over her abs, a plaid button-up tied off at her waist. Giving a look over Rarity, Jack nodded in approval.
“See? Francis was right, ya do form an’ function good, sug. No need ta hem an’ haw over all-a that shit like ya did earlier. I’m sure pants that tight lookin’ are crazy popular in the city, an’ yer keepin’ warmer. Win-win.”
They took to hiking not long after reuniting. Francis in the lead, Spike, Jack, then Rarity bringing up the rear. They had gone off-road at Francis’ suggestion: the map he carried showed that the road meandered and twisted through the woods and foliage a few miles up ahead. By simply crossing the dense woods and traveling ‘the way the crow flies,’ as Jack said, they could shave easy hours off of the trip. And with only until dusk to find a location to bed down, every hour saved was important.
It was about two hours into their impromptu march that Spike spoke up.
“Are we there yet?”
It was a question that was asked by every child at least once on a road trip and Jack sighed, rolling her eyes from habit.
“Do ya see buildings?” she questioned.
“No.”
“Then we ain’t there yet.”
“But my feet hurt,” he complained.
“I know it’s not pleasant, my boy, but a few more klicks onward and we’ll be able to rest for a spell, is that fine?” Francis asked patiently. “There’s a little stream where we can get some water.”
“Okay,” he quietly agreed. They shuffled through the woods for a while longer before Spike spoke again. “Have you ever watched any of those unsolvable mystery shows?”
“A time or two. Mac ate ‘em up,” Jack said.
“There was one I saw on missing people. They would go hiking in the woods and just vanish.”
“Ain’t sure if now’s the time fer that,” Jack said, looking past the boy and towards the path they walked. Spike seemed to ignore this, instead continuing to talk.
“People vanish a lot. There’s over five-hundred missing people every year. Do you think maybe…?”
“It’s a hell of a lot more than five-hundred gone—”
“What if we’re the ones that vanished?!” he blurted out. “What if we’re the ones that are gone?!”
“Does it make a difference?” Jack asked, gritting her teeth. She was angry at the boy inexplicably; maybe it was because he poked a wound that had just started to faintly heal, maybe it was him blathering on about nothing, or maybe the bad fucking days had caught up. But she caught herself, swallowing and calming herself down before continuing. “Thinking too hard on that can be bad, sugar. All we need ta think about is that we’re gonna get ya to the capital. Okay?”
“Indeed. Focus on the objective, the rest can wait,” Francis agreed cheerfully, though his eyes were hardened slits as he scanned the way before them, almost seeming to dare anything to show up at the moment. “And right now that objective is to make it to the stream. Hiking is thirsty work, after all.”
“Really thirsty work,” Spike agreed. Jack reached forward, ruffling his hair.
“So is talkin’ up a storm,” she said, “so maybe cut back on the ‘are we there yet’ stuff, okay?”
“Yeah, okay, Jack!” he said, pushing away her hand, though not entirely unappreciative. He turned, saying, “Hey, I think Rarity fell behind.”
Jack opened her mouth to respond, but then the three saw the tailor pass around a tree. When she approached them, they could see her face set in a stern mask. She looked to Jack, her face cracking into a pained scowl. “Well? Are we there yet?”
The farmer’s brow twitched and she turned, wordlessly walking away.
It was a few hours before dusk when they stumbled into a ramshackle trailer park nestled in the lowlands of the woods. A sign next to a lonely dirt road leading towards the main path proclaimed this to be ‘Happy Valley Living’. As they watched it from the edge of the woods, Francis looked towards the group.
“Well, it’s surely quaint. Wouldn’t you all agree?”
“That seems a bit of an understatement,” Rarity said. “I could certainly offer more poignant descriptions, none of them pleasant.”
“I’m sure it’s a nice lil’ place,” Jack offered, then added under her breath, “fer meth dealers. What?”
“Nothing,” Rarity said quickly, hiding her smile at Jack’s remark. “Regardless of its appeal, it may be a Godsend. I’m sure we can scrounge some useful things, not to mention we may find a clean bed… and a shower!”
“An’ a place ta keep safe from those… whatever ya wanna call ‘em,” Jack added. “Since we made it through last night alive in that loft, I’m thinkin’ they hunt by sight. So we keep the blinds down an’ make sure we block the doors off, an, well, we hope fer the best, I guess.”
Looking through their options, they decided to pick one towards the center of the cluster of trailers. It looked less dilapidated than the others, with a moderately trimmed lawn and siding that had seen at least a new coat of matching paint. Approaching first, Jack reached the screen door and opened it, then knocked on the door leading proper into the trailer.
She paused for a beat then let out a weak laugh. “Sorry, habit,” she explained, opening the door and stepping inside.
It smelled of cigarettes, the scent seeming to waft from the brown plush carpet at her feet. To the left, underneath a set of venetian blinds, was a well-worn couch that sat gazing blindly at a television still broadcasting a blue screen. Farther on was a kitchen, separated from the living room by a counter loaded down with notes, photos and an ashtray. Past that was a hallway that Jack guessed went to a bedroom and maybe a laundry room.
“Well, it could use a good cleaning—or at least some air freshener—but I suppose it’ll suffice.” Rarity entered slowly, turning about and taking it in. “Do you think we could hazard some hot food?”
“Well, if we die we could at least die with a full stomach,” Jack agreed. “What’s on the menu?”
“Spike, be a dear and help me search this kitchen.”
“Okay,” he promptly agreed, following after her.
Francis meanwhile looked towards the door. He shut it, locked it, then went to the kitchen and took to fishing through the cabinet doors. After a few moments, a pleased ‘ah-ha!’ came from him and he returned with a roll of duct tape. He covered the small window at the door, sealing it off with the tape, then taping the venetian blinds to the frame of the windows.
“I suppose I’ll do the rest of the rooms,” he said. He moved past the kitchen and Jack watched him vanish down the hallway. She leaned on the counter, skimming over the pictures hung on the refrigerator. One was of a middle-aged man, his arms wrapped tight around the shoulder of an older fella. It didn’t take much to guess it was father and son. They were crouched behind a deer, beaming.
Not a bad buck, Jack thought absently. She clenched her teeth together and dropped her gaze to the counter. There were piles of bills addressed to a Douglas Ramirez. A folded newspaper sat underneath the ashtray, dated for the day before halloween. Next to it was a pack of Camels, crumpled and abused. Jack snorted and reached for one, putting it unlit into her mouth. She had given up smoking right about when she picked up drinking, but right now both seemed like damn fine options.
“Any lighters in there?” she asked the two in the kitchen.
Walking to the counter, Rarity picked one up and threw it to Jack. “I’d ask you to save me one, but with my holder at home… Just take it outside—this place reeks of smoke enough as it is.”
“Mmm,” Jack grunted out in agreement. Moving to the door, Jack tossed it open and stepped out.
Lighting up, Jack stared out at the sun. It was already starting to scrape the tops of the trees around the valley; wouldn’t be long at all until night came. A part of her wanted to wait out and watch the stars, but another part of her felt paranoid even being out this late. Who knew how soon those damn things would come? The four of them were lucky last night, but luck eventually ran out. Playing smart was the name of the game now, and being out here alone as night crept closer with every breath wasn’t smart.
Finishing up, Jack threw the smoke out into the dirt and walked back in, where the smell of dinner made her stomach groan so hard she nearly doubled over.
“He had some good stuff in the fridge!” Spike announced to Jack when she rounded the courner. “Steaks!”
“Nothing fresh, I’m afraid,” added Rarity. “Boxed macaroni and cheese, a can of peaches…” She made a face. “And more bags of pork rinds than could be considered sane.”
“Spicy or plain?” Jack asked with a raise of her brow. They looked at her and she shrugged. “That’s important information right there.”
“Uh, both? They’re in the cabinet above the microwave.”
Jack moved into the kitchen and opened the cabinet in question.
“Jesus,” Jack commented as she took in the sight. “That is a lot of pork rinds. Did this guy run a state fair in here or somethin’?”
“No idea, but you take your steak medium rare, right?”
“Medium rare, that’s right,” Jack agreed, a bit surprised she hit the hammer on the nail.
“I was pretty sure you had good taste,” Rarity replied, carefully checking two of the steaks. “Unlike Dash, who’ll take it burnt or not at all. That’s largely why I stopped taking her out to dinner, did you know; it was too depressing watching her ruin a good meal.”
“An’ what’s worse is that she drowns the damn stuff in sauce—it’s a steak, not a damn Chinese meal. Ya gotta let the meat speak for itself,” Jack readily agreed with a shake of her head. “Lord, that girl. Makes ya wonder about her.”
Lifting two of the steaks out of the pan and onto a plate, Rarity handed one to Jack. “Enjoy, darling.”
“Thanks, sug.”
“Oh, and you’ll be pleased enough: there’s nothing to drink but water and beer.” Rarity placed a finger to her cheek in thought. “Or spoiled milk, if you like.”
“I’m more a whiskey gal, but I reckon a beer’ll do good enough.”
“Can I have one?” Spike asked, looking hopefully towards Jack.
“Uh… ask Rarity,” the farmer instantly deflected. Spike turned his eyes towards the woman in question.
“I’m grown up enough for one,” he said earnestly.
Rarity smirked. “You won’t like it,” she warned him, “but yes, one will be alright.”
Reaching into the fridge, she brought out two beers, putting one in front of Jack, the other in front of Spike. As Jack popped both tops and took a drink, Spike followed suit, taking a sip.
“Well?” asked Rarity.
“Who the hell can drink this?” he asked, his face contorting to a look of absolute disgust. He pushed the can away from him and stuck his tongue out.
“She warned ya,” Jack said, casually taking another sip of the drink as Rarity tried—and failed—to stifle a giggle.
“Well,” she asked, “do you feel more like a man?”
“Being a man sucks if that’s what I have to look forward to,” he said. From behind came a laugh and Francis appeared from the hallway, nodding.
“It has its ups and downs,” he agreed. “But more ups.” Moving past the table, he put the duct tape up. “We should be secure enough, I’d believe, for a restful night.”
“Much obliged,” Jack said, cutting into her steak. Bringing it to her mouth she nodded appreciatively at its texture and flavor. “Good work on these, Rare,” she complemented through her full mouth. She was hungry enough that she wanted to wolf it down as quick as she could, but restrained herself, knowing it might be a while yet before she had something like this again.
“All that practice with Stephanie paid off, it seems.” Rarity cocked an eyebrow towards Jack. “But I would’ve thought you’d like to say grace, Jack?”
“Shit,” she said. Swallowing her mouthful she shut her eyes and put her palms in front of her, her expression turning more serious as she thought.
“Lord, thank ya fer the meal, bless it an’ let it nourish our bodies. Thank ya for everythin’ you’ve done when it comes ta keepin’ us safe.” There was a pause as Jack mulled her next words over. “What happened ta everyone hurts. But… if it’s yer plan, I, uh…” Shaking her head, she pressed on. “We’ll follow what you’ve laid out for us. Jesus’ name, Amen.”
“Amen,” chorused the others. With that, they all dug in eagerly.
And for a little while, the terrors of the previous night were forgotten in the presence of a good meal and fine company. Old memories were shared and laughs filled the empty trailer as the last vestiges of the day fell below the horizon.
When the meal finally ended, the group dispersed. Spike took to watching some cartoon movie on the DVD player, with Francis halfway to asleep on the couch. Jack took a look at the laundry room, then followed after Rarity into the bedroom, where a bathroom sat tucked off one door past.
“I’m gonna guess you’ll want the shower first?” Jack questioned.
“Oh yes, please,” she replied eagerly.
“Alright. Won’t fight ya over it. Jus’ leave some hot water for the rest of us, alright?”
“No promises,” Rarity said with a wink. She sauntered into the bathroom and Jack looked around the bedroom. Beside the two mattresses that served as a bed Jack noticed something tucked beside a nightstand. She almost threw herself onto it, and, as she grasped it in both her hands, she legitimately laughed out loud, tossing it onto the bed then checking the nightstand. Sure enough, when she threw open the thing a beautiful sight greeted her.
A box of shells. Ten of them. Rising, she went over to the bathroom door and slapped against it, her prize in hand. “Rare! Rare, you won’t believe what I jus’ found!”
There was a pause before her voice replied, “What? Is something wrong, Jack?” The sound of running water stopped.
“Somethin’ wrong?” Jack repeated with a chuckle. “Nah, sug, more like somethin’ great. Found ourselves a nice lil’ treat in the bedroom.”
“Oh. Well, good.” The water began again. Jack stood at the door for a moment before shaking her head.
“What? Jus’ ‘well, good?’ Ain’t even curious what I found?”
“Well, I am, but… Is it going to go anywhere until I’ve finished my shower?”
“I guess not,” the farmer admitted. “Nevermind.” After a beat, she added under her breath, “Dash woulda been excited ta see it. Woulda shot through that door, I bet.” Through, for the moment, with her complaining, she turned her attention back to her prize.
It was a beautifully oiled break-action shotgun, with a rosewood stock and hinges that snapped open and closed with precision that would have given her own gun collection back home a run for its money. She checked, then double-checked, to make sure the gun was empty before testing the hammer and trigger.
There was a small click as she squeezed and she smiled a bit, pleased at its lack of resistance.
“Yer house ain’t so hot, but ya knew how ta respect a gun,” Jack said out loud. The owner would never hear her, but she felt it still needed saying. Even if only to help alleviate a bit of the guilty conscious she had, knowing she was taking it without hesitation. It was different than taking things from the gas station—there was a bit more of a gravity to this in her eyes. The theft was a sort of point that there was no coming back from.
Sug, you’ve passed that line days ago, she told herself. Disappointed with herself, but accepting that as fact, she quickly stuffed the shells into her pockets and took to carrying the gun around, tucking it under her armpit as she took stock of the remainder of the room.
Nothing else jumped out at her, save for a few blankets they would probably want to use when they bedded down tonight. They sure weren’t all going to fit on the bed or sofa, that was for damn sure.
Finally she heard the water turn off and smiled a bit, looking forward to a shower herself—she really needed it after the past few days.
Jack let a small, derisive snort of laughter out. If she thought she needed one, then Rarity must have been going just about nuts. If that girl washed her hands and kept up appearances any harder, Jack would have been certain that she had some kind of disorder. But the fact Rarity was taking this all so well and holding together… it impressed Jack. Rarity was made of stronger stuff than first look suggested. In a way Jack had always known that, but knowing and seeing were two different things. Jack had said it before and she would say it again: that girl was full of surprises.
The bathroom door opened to reveal Rarity, a somewhat frayed towel wrapped tightly around her. The bit of cloth did its best, but was hardly sufficient covering for a woman as developed as Rarity. She had another wrapped above her head, tight, and a small bundle under her arms. She looked over at Jack, saying, “Well, I feel like a new woman. If you ignore some of the more questionable stains, it’s the best shower in all the world.”
“I’ll take stains. Though if I see a roach in there I’m gonna flip out,” Jack answered. Smiling, she held out the shotgun to Rarity. “Look at this, girl. Ain’t it somethin’? Was tucked away by the nightstand.”
“I’ll trust your expertise,” Rarity said, giving the gun a look over. “As far as my knowledge goes, if it works against those things, it’s a godsend.”
“Damn straight. I’ll take every advantage I can get over those sons of bitches.” Putting it onto the bed, she stretched her arms over her head. “Well, guess I’ll hit the shower myself. Shout if ya need anythin’.”
‘Hold on a moment,” she said, holding out a hand. “Go inside and then hand me your clothes.”
Pausing, Jack looked at her. “Uh, okay,” she said. “Ya ain’t gonna run off with ‘em, are ya?”
Rolling her eyes, Rarity replied, “Just as far as the washer. It might be the last chance we get, and we only have so many spares.” A thought hit her. “And I’ll be sure to keep the boys out.”
“Oh yeah. I don’t think they’re the type to peek, but I guess it never hurts,” Jack agreed. Entering the bathroom she was nearly knocked off her feet from a burst of warm humidity that sucked the air from her as she stripped down. Finished, she took a moment to wipe at her brow.
“Were ya tryin’ ta boil lobsters or somethin’ in here? Like a damn sauna,” Jack complained, turning and opening the door enough that her head could look through. She offered the stack to Rarity. “Shells for the gun are in my pants, don’t forget ta take ‘em out. And the cassette.”
“Yes, yes,” Rarity said absently, carefully grabbing the stack and balancing it with her own. “Enjoy, darling.”
“Thanks, sug. Appreciate it.” A pause came as Jack turned her gaze to the floor. “Hey, Rare?”
“Yes?”
“We’re gonna be alright,” Jack reassured. The tailor probably didn’t need to hear it, going by how she was managing, but maybe Jack did, and saying it out loud helped herself. “So jus’ keep that in mind, okay?”
Silence, then, with only the barest hint of a tremble, “Y-yeah. Thank you, Jack.” Then she turned towards the hall and the laundry room.
Jack stared at the door for a long moment, before turning her attention towards the shower.