Though the two were ready to go, Jack knew it would be a fool’s errand to go out into the world unprepared. So with that in mind, they did something that Jack never expected she’d do with Rarity for an extended period of time:
Shopping.
Their first stop was a clothing shop. Though it was nice at the moment, winter wasn't an empty threat but a promise; and they weren’t properly geared for any long-lasting encounter with the cold.
They traveled over the river and into North Camelot. From there they could just hop onto the I-40 and follow it out of the capital and all the way into Oklahoma, if they'd like. Jack wasn't yet sure which way they wanted to go about it: Rarity and her had poured over the map for a pretty extended period of time trying to decide, and got more argument and indecision than progress out of it.
They pulled into the local Family Dollar after an extensive search of the area. There were white vertical bars behind the door and the storefront windows. Rarity gave Jack a pinched, pursed-mouth look, but didn't say anything.
She didn't need to.
“That’s gettin’ ta be too frequent,” Jack remarked, tapping her foot onto the shaggy carpet of the shop to get rid of what glass remained on the toes of her boot.
“At least all those silly dares with Mac on who could kick more apples from your trees is serving some purpose,” Rarity replied, stepping carefully around the shattered glass. “Besides, needs must, Jack.”
“Jus’ remember those were yer words when it comes ta the clothin’, sug. Yer lucky I didn’t take us ta a thrift store.” She walked further into the room.
“Yes, because Family Dollar isn't a thrift store.”
Jack shrugged unapologetically and peered around the unlit store.
Though it wasn’t what Jack would call ‘ghetto’, she knew it wasn’t what Rarity would call ‘tasteful,’ holding a few practical designs; cargo pants, jackets, belts, alongside a few things like shorts with ‘bootylicious’ on the ass. Alice had tried to wear a pair of those once—Jack and Mac both put an end to that not in days, but hours.
“Despite what you may think, I’ve frequented many a thrift store in my day. One can find some truly unique pieces, for inspiration if not actually to wear.” Looking around, Rarity instructed, “Well, first things first. We’ll need a pack before anything else.”
“Let’s see…” Jack trailed off, raising her head towards the ceiling. After a beat, she took to counting on her fingers. “Pack, ride, food, tools, guns. Maybe some cards.”
With a moment’s thought, the tailor said, “Well, I think it best if you take care of the tools and weapons. You’ll know more than I, after all.” She sized Jack up and down, rubbing her chin thoughtfully. “I’m confident I recall your size, so I’ll gather clothes for both of us.”
“Alright, sug. After that, there’s a Kroger down Carson, or Daniels, one of those roads. We can meet up at the front there an’ get some food. I’ll try ta find us a pair-a wheels too.” Now it was Jack’s turn to eye Rarity. “Speakin’ of guns, tho’, have ya ever pulled a trigger?”
She shrugged. “A few times. It was a hobby of my father’s, but I was never fond of it. Surely there’s no need? I mean, you’ll handle that, won’t you, Jack?”
“I wanna say yes,” Jack agreed, though there was obvious hesitation in her eyes. “But I ain’t…” Wiping at her mouth, she gave a quick shake of her head, trying to keep the talk casual. “I mean, hell, what if I get hurt an’ can’t use it? It’d be better if we got ya at least a lil’ somethin’ that ya were comfortable with.”
Rarity opened her mouth but hesitated. Memories of their trip flashed back and she flinched, involuntarily. Instead of saying anything, she simply nodded.
Seeing Rarity visibly flinch made Jack reach forward, putting her hands onto Rarity’s shoulders.
“If I can at all, sug, I’ll keep ya safe. I swear. But, I said it before, if I lost ya, if I knew ya didn’t have a snowball’s chance in hell without me…” Jack bit at her lip, once again mulling her words over. “I couldn’t live with that.”
“Fair enough,” was Rarity’s quiet response. The pair stood in silence a moment, taking stock in each other’s presence, before she said, “Well, let’s not waste any time. It’ll be night before we know it.”
Jack gave a slow nod of her own. “Yeah. Yeah, the hell am I standin’ ‘round fer? We gotta move.” She gave an encouraging shove to Rarity’s shoulder in an attempt to lighten the mood. “Jus’ get me somethin’ that holds up good. I’m countin’ on ya.” She headed towards the door and, with a small wave, stepped outside and took off down the street.
Rarity watched her go, then turned to the field of potential in front of her. She took a deep breath, focusing on what she knew, what she did, and pushing back the memories that threatened to take hold of her. “Right,” she said to no one. “Let it not be said that Rarity Belle failed in anything clothing related.” Head high, she passed in between the first racks she saw, eyes picking out the best candidates to return for once she found a good pack to hold it.
All things considered, shopping took less time than either had anticipated. It was only on the tail end of the afternoon when Rarity spotted Jack coming into the parking lot of the supermarket, four bags slung around both her broad shoulders. Two loaded with paracord, first-aid kits, flares, water purifiers, rope, oil, and a few other tools Jack thought would help them, two bags completely empty.
“Consider it yer shoppin’ cart,” she explained, shoving it towards the tailor.
“Your gratitude knows no bounds,” Rarity replied, taking the bags with some consideration.
They made their way through the market, stocking up on canned goods, dried food, and instant noodles; Jack swung by the market’s supplement aisle and got a bottle of vitamins for them as well. Before they knew it, their bags ran over with supplies and each took a heavy shoulder-load back out to the front.
Jack looked over the cars outside and rubbed at her chin in thought. “Van?” she offered, pointing to a white one at the far end. “Maybe an SUV?”
Shaking her head, Rarity offered, “Shouldn’t we find something a little more economical? I know we could use the space, but we should probably consider our fuel needs, don’t you think?”
Giving a nod of her head, Jack considered it. “Actually a decent point. Then what are ya thinkin’?” Jack swept her hand across the lot. “Got yer pick of the litter. Jus’ nothin’ too small. An’ remember we might have ta go off road sometimes ‘cause of the pile ups.”
Counting on her fingers, the tailor said, “So at least decent gas mileage, space, and fairly reliable in various conditions. I’m no expert, but if I’m not mistaken something foreign will meet those most likely.”
“Foreign?” Jack raised a brow. “Ain’t nothin’ wrong with a home-grown ride.”
Rarity simply shrugged.
Finally letting out a small huff, Jack conceded. “Alright. Jus’ know we ain’t gettin’ no Camaro or nothin’ here.” She added under her breath, “can barely fit inta some of those damn things.”
Despite Jack’s complaints, they found a Volkswagen a few years past its prime and loaded up. Jack, surprisingly, took passenger; it became obvious why a few minutes later, when her knees rested squarely against the dash. She gave Rarity a flat look, but said nothing.
“Ya know how ta get somethin’ hotwired?” she asked. At Rarity’s incredulous eyebrow, she sighed, saying, “Jus’ reach under the dashboard on yer side. There’ll be some wires. Gotta cut the red and green one an’ touch the cords.”
Doing as she was told, Rarity managed to start it after a few tries, taking a pocket knife from Jack to cut the wires.
Once the thing revved to live, Jack offered a satisfied grunt.
“Good work,” she said.
“There’s a skill my parents would be proud of,” Rarity deadpanned, switching the car to reverse and pulling out, leaving the lot. They drove through the deserted streets for a few moments before reaching the outer limits of the suburbs.
“Last chance,” Jack offered, glancing out her side mirror at the capital. “Ya can still, ya know…”
“Oh, please. You know the only one more stubborn than you is me, Jack.” She laughed. “And admit it, you don’t want to do this alone.”
Jack looked at Rarity, then brought her eyes back front. After a beat, she sighed.
“Nah. I don’t. Familiar face’ll do me a lotta good.”
They took Highway 365 out of the suburbs, and after an hour’s drive on the road, pausing when needed to clear out traffic and circumnavigate the wreckage where they found it, Jack finally couldn’t take it.
“Hate ta be the kid right now, but any chance we can stop fer a few? Have a bite an’ pee?”
“Mmm.” Rarity nodded. “Something to eat would be nice.”
Driving for a few more minutes, Rarity slowed and pulled over during a relatively clear stretch.
Jack got out of the car and leaned side to side, popping her back. “Well, how ‘bout some Pop-Tarts? Figure we don’t wanna crack out the actual cookin’ stuff yet, ‘least.”
“Sounds fine. You take care of what you need; I’ll dig them out.”
She took the opportunity to run off and, a few moments later, came back refreshed. Mac had always said one of life’s greatest joys was taking care of business outside. Jack, at the time, thought he meant laying fence, planting crops, the usual work for her. She only just now got what he really meant all those years ago.
The thought made her snort as she returned back to Rarity. Why it just now came to her, she couldn’t say. But that was pretty much the name of the game now. She couldn’t say where shit ended and began, she couldn’t tell what the hell anything was. Only thing she could say right now was that Rarity was here, and she was going to have a Goddamn Pop-Tart.
As if she could read her mind, the tailor tossed a pack her way, with a quick, “Catch!” the only warning.
Jack slapped her hand forward, knocking it up in the air, but recovered quickly enough, catching her prize in her off-hand as it tumbled back down. Tearing into it, she quickly swallowed a piece.
“Breakfast of champions,” Jack muttered under her breath, glad that they were at least the cinnamon kind. As she munched on the snack, she looked over, catching sight of a worn wooden fence. An idea came to her, and she looked over to Rarity. “Up fer some target practice?”
With a few more thoughtful chews, the tailor swallowed and said, “Well, that was fast. I knew you’d ask, eventually, so… Might as well.”
“Better now than tonight when we’re hunkered up someplace,” Jack said. “Let me jus’ get yer gun.”
She came back from the car moments later, a small nine millimeter pistol in her large hands. Relaxing her grip, she let the gun’s handle dangle in front of her as she offered it to the woman.
“Next time keep it a bit closer ta the top of yer bag, sug. Ya don’t wanna dig through a lotta stuff ta find it. Wear yer holster with it when we get outta the car most times,” Jack lectured.
With great patience, the tailor managed to stop herself from rolling her eyes. “I simply thought I’d not need it for a little while.” Somewhat forcefully, she took the gun, feeling the solid metal heft to it, the rough grip warm from Jack’s hand. It was something astoundingly real, absolute. Vague memories came back, and she check the safety, then the magazine somewhat hesitantly. “Well, you’re in charge of the lesson, Jack. What’s first?”
Jack sauntered over to the fence and searched about for a second. She found what she wanted and loaded the fence with trash, plastic and glass bottles, tin cans, and a small ceramic bowl she found near the ditch, then returned to Rarity.
“Saw ya check the safety an’ mag. Good deal. Now pull the slide back ta get a bullet loaded in the chamber.”
“Alright.” She gripped the gun tightly and pulled the slide. “It’s loaded. I think.”
“Yep, yep it is. Now…” she moved to Rarity’s side and took the back of the tailor’s hands, briefly reminded of doing the same to Alice when she was a youngster first learning about guns. Guiding Rarity’s hands upward, she held them out, moving directly behind Rarity to get a good sight on what they were doing.
“Look down the top of the slide. There are two notches at the back, one at the tip. Ya line those up an’ yer gun’s level. Then it’s jus’ like pointin’ yer finger at what needs shot up close. Still followin’?”
“Yes, I believe so. It all sounds familiar, at least.” She hefted the weapon, lining up the sights as instructed.
Jack nodded. “Familiar is good. Yer dad probably said the same, mostly.” She stepped back, taking notice of Rarity’s stance, then stepping in again. “Don’t have yer gun arm fully extended, give yer elbow a little slack, an’—” she gave a tap of her heel at Rarity’s feet, spreading them a hair apart. “Make sure ya keep yer body a little wider fer stability. Yer pistol ain’t gonna kick like a mule or nothin’, but it’s a good habit ta have, especially if we ever have ya on a rifle. Jus’ do whatever feels natural.” She looked towards the collection of trash on the fencepost. “Now fer actual shootin’. Let’s see some magic.”
“This feels so cliche,” Rarity joked, moving just a bit to stand more comfortably without betraying the stance Jack had put her in. She loosened up, setting the sights to a bottle on the left. Breathing in, she let the breath out slow, then pulled the trigger. There was a loud crack, which made her flinch slightly, despite herself. It would just take getting used to, she reminded herself. “And I missed. Of course.”
“Yer jus’ rusty.” She looked to the woman, at her side again. She gestured to the bottle and put a hand at Rarity’s shoulder. “Squeeze, don’t pull the trigger. That’ll help. Don’t think hard on it, no sense gettin’ worked up over this. Don’t freak out. This is a nine mil. Very easy gun for beginners. Jus’ take a breath an’ shoot while yer exhalin’.” She scratched at her cheek. “If it helps any, think of pointin’ with yer knuckle on yer finger. If that’s makin’ any sense.”
“Mmm.” Again, Rarity took aim, breathed, then did her best to follow Jack’s instructions. She fired, again, again. She missed, clipped a can which spiralled away, and then missed again. “I see what you mean on that, I think, about pointing with the knuckle.”
Jack gave a proud smile. “Figured ya would. Jus’ a matter of practicin’ now. We’ll make a damn Annie Oakley outta ya yet.”
Rarity gave a smirk of her own. “Just don’t ask me to wear the hat.”
“Damn. An’ here I was gonna get ya one next town over.”
The hours continued to tick away as they drove. The sun, at one point on their side, was slowly fading, only just peeking over the hills in the distance like a shy child from behind the leg of their mother.
Highway 365 was one of the most free they had seen; traffic had steered clear of it for the most part, and they only had to actually stop once after their brief lunch break. Rarity hummed along to the CD the previous owners of the car had left inside. Though Jack wasn’t a huge fan of it, the tailor’s good mood was infectious and she smiled alongside her, even catching herself tapping a finger to her thigh on more than one occasion as they traveled.
“Next town’s ‘bout ten minutes from here. Reckon we’ll hole up ta avoid those things then—”
A loud boom from the driver’s side caused Jack to instantly go on alert. Rarity swore and slammed on her brakes, bringing the Volkswagen to a screeching stop.
“The hell was that?” Jack asked, already out the car and to Rarity’s side. It was obvious what happened when she got there.
The car’s wheel had erupted, bits of rubber still draped over the rim, but there was no way in hell they were going anywhere like this.
Jack looked quickly around them. Though it wasn’t barren by any stretch of the imagination, being in a fairly wooded area, she doubted those things would be stumped by mere trees. Further ahead, a signpost mocked her, stating proudly that the town of Glendale was ten miles away.
“Shit,” Jack swore under her breath.
“Well,” Rarity’s somewhat faded voice called from the back of the car, “at least they have a spare—though it doesn’t look too good, and I’m a complete amateur with cars.”
“Do they have a jack?” the farmer questioned. “Otherwise this is gonna be a bitch.”
A moment of silence, a distinctly unfeminine grunt, then, “Here it is, under the tire.”
Jack nodded, already moving to go for the tire. “Alright. I got some tools in my bag. We can use those. Quick-like, now.”
Rolling the tire out of the back, Jack grabbed the jack and threw it onto the frame. A few seconds of cranking, and she had lifted the side of the car enough that they could replace the tire.
The sun had all-but vanished now despite their speed. Already long shadows had appeared to the east, like fingers reaching for the two, intending to swallow them whole.
“Should I grab a flashlight? I hate just standing around…” There was a clear note of nervousness in Rarity’s voice as the light began to fade more quickly. Her eyes began darting, almost against her will.
Jack earnestly nodded her head. “Grab a flashlight. An’ our guns. I ain’t no pit stop crew member, this is gonna take some time. Time we don’t have. How ya feel ‘bout yer aim?”
Opening the back door and grabbing what she needed, Rarity replied, “Well, at least they’re bigger targets. But less talking and more changing. I’d rather not find out for sure.”
“If it’s too hard, say so,” Jack instructed, already freeing the ruined tire from the rim.
“It’ll be fine,” she assured the farmer. “We’ll be on our way to safety in no time.”
“I trust ya,” Jack said plainly. Like usual with her, the plainer the words, the more soft-spoken, the more truth they held.
The things tonight seemed bolder. As soon as the sun had set and there was nothing more than a faint line of crimson across the western horizon, Rarity saw them. For now they seemed to be merely observing them, glancing across trees, poking through bushes, up at the treeline. Only the faintest movement called attention to them, the slight twitch of a tree limb, the crack of a twig as they moved about, but they were there and were rapidly growing in body count.
And both knew, it would only be a matter of time before they grew brave enough to swarm.
“At least I can look at them this time…” she said under her breath, scanning this way and that. However, that thought brought back those memories, and she shivered.
There came faint, almost inaudible whispering, speaking in a tongue just on the edge of familiar, yet so foreign that it would be impossible to decipher. The speech started off slow, a calm talk amidst tea and biscuits, but quickly grew faster, frantic, the utterances rising to a those at a bar in speed and tempo, then the near-feral gibbering a religious zealot might have during a hellfire sermon.
The trees in the distance shook, as if they wanted Jack and Rarity to search it, to investigate its quickly-darkening shade, and the monsters made even less attempt to hide, brazenly watching now, taking a few experimental steps toward in challenge, pack hunters testing a target before pouncing.
“Oh God,” Jack said with a tremble in her voice, wiping at her brow with urgency as sweat threatened to blind her as it rained down her face. She didn’t dare look up from her job as she moved the spare tire into place.
“D-don’t listen, J-j-jack,” Rarity hissed between chattering teeth. She gripped the gun tighter, fixing and refixing her stance, trying to hold onto the realness of it. Ready to defend their lives, as was quickly proving necessary. Suddenly, the gun went off in her hands—she’d squeezed too tight and pulled the trigger. By some miracle, the shot found a target, catching one of the things in its arm.
It started then.
With a howl, dozens charged them, tripping and falling over one-another as the ones in back overtook their leaders. They cleared the fields and came into the first arcing sweep of Rarity’s flashlight, cutting through them like a scythe through wheat, stripping their shadowy armor free and briefly giving them pause as the light graced their bodies and, while not stopping their slobbering charge, slowed them down to a walk, as if they were fighting their way through a powerful blizzard within the light’s incandescence, covering their eyes and letting out hisses of pain as it ate away at their defenses.
One came to the edge of the road and that’s when Rarity aimed her first intentional shot. As Jack showed her, she used her arm to steady her flashlight and simultaneously the gun. Her target, illuminated, was terrible to look at, but somehow less so as it clawed and roared against the light. She lined up the sights, began her exile, and fired.
The beast fell back, a splurt of liquid, almost too dark for blood, shooting from its neck. But others gripped its twisted flesh, ripping as they pulled it back and charged forward. Again, the light seemed to almost have a physical effect, but there were too many and she could only shine it on so many at once.
She fired, panic at the edge of her mind, trying to worm its way through and make her unload. But she just breathed and fired, breathed and fired, the only sounds finding her thoughts Jack’s sotto voce swearing and the tink of metal on metal. But with every hit that knocked one back, that sent them falling to the ground, she would miss or, worse, find her shot shrugged off.
“Jack! I don’t think…” Her words trailed off, her mind blanking.
“Don’t think! Do!” Jack barked, tightening a lug on the tire, her hands shaking so bad she dropped one to the ground; ignoring it for the time being, she threw on the next one, twisting it on as quickly as she could, praying that there wasn’t one right behind her as she threw herself into her work. “Almost! Tire should hold with one more lug!”
“Hurry!” Rarity cried, her voice cracking just a hair as the clip ran dry. She fumbled at the release, trying and failing to catch the falling magazine. The light went wide as she desperately tried to grab it; her focus lost, the monsters picked up their pace. She let it fall with a clatter, swearing harshly as she went for another, desperate to reload.
“Got it!” Jack cried, kicking the tire jack free and standing, only to have one of the monsters flank her from the side, the dropped light letting them charge and swarm with wild abandon. It propelled itself into her, slamming her into the side of the door and dropping her to the ground. Even then she dropped fighting, already instinctively reaching up to its neck with one hand to avoid its wickedly sharp teeth, the other hand squeezing its shoulder and pinning it against her body to stop it from digging into her.
It let out a shriek, its mouth so close to Jack’s nose she could smell its putrid breath and she wrestled her leg up to its abdomen and freed her hand from its shoulder, blindly fishing along the ground for a weapon.
Luck decided she was due for a break, and she clasped a hand tightly around a part of the tire jack. She snapped it forward, cracking it against the side of its temple and being rewarded with a spurt of a dark, oozing liquid from a crack in its skin. While it was still stunned she kicked it off and made a dive for the dropped flashlight, twisting while on the ground and shining it by Rarity, stopping a creature just as it was preparing to leap at her.
“Car!” Jack barked, waving the light as it it were a torch, stalling them for as long as she could as she weakly climbed to a knee, pushing against the frame of the vehicle to hoist herself up.
“Get in!” Rarity cried, but her voice was strained, distant sounding. She was no longer firing carefully, as the things approached to overrun. Firing wildly, she moved back and forth, like on autopilot. No longer focused on anything, the only thing she could hear was her fear screaming to kill, to end these things rushing towards her. She could fight or she could flee, and she had chosen to fight, an animal response overriding any sense of Jack’s logical order.
Jack finally rose fully, her head aching and a warmth trickling down the back of her head
—Bleedin’? Am I bleedin’?—she thought, the words odd, strange as they both faced death. It took a lot out of her, but she got her bearings back when she intentionally bit her lip to focus and threw open the car’s driver side door, grabbed Rarity’s shoulders and twisted, throwing the tailor to the side hard enough that she stumbled and nearly dropped.
“Car!” she commanded with a roar, snapping her hand forward and cracking another one of the creature’s as it came close, her blow strong enough that its disgusting eyes rolled upward and it collapsed to the ground. “Start the Goddamn car!”
For half a second, Rarity just stared at Jack. But finally the message got through—fight turned to flight and she gasped, hyperventilating as she dropped the gun and began grabbing for the key. She wanted to scream, but she could barely breathe. Finally, she felt the sharp edges on her delicate fingers, gripping it tightly and turning. The engine roared to life, a gentle giant barely overcoming the screaming masses that now surrounded them.
Jack was no Bo Duke, but she did her best impersonation, sliding across the back of the car and tucking into the passenger seat, the dash cracking against her knee cap as she threw herself inside.
With the farmer in, Rarity wasted no time shifting into gear. She slammed the gas, surging the vehicle forward, through and over several of the things. One managed to grab at Jack before she got the door fully shut, and she let out a surprised gasp as it pulled at her. She grabbed the handle of the door and pulled with all her might, slamming into its arm once, twice, then with a sickening crack as she came down on it a third time, it let go of her and its mangled arm vanished into the quickly-growing horde of bodies. Jack managed to get her door shut, finally, and looked in the passenger mirror, watching as they put distance on the monsters.
They drove on, the only sound the rolling tires and their labored breathing, their own heartbeats in their ears.
Finally, it was Jack who broke the silence. She didn’t look at Rarity; felt like she couldn’t at the moment, but asked the question that felt automatic to her now.
“Are you okay?”
Gripping the steering wheel tight, Rarity’s knuckles were white from the strain. She let out a slow, long breath, and relaxed ever so slightly. Quietly, almost too quiet to hear, she said, “Jack?”
Jack turned to look at her, giving the woman her undivided attention and waited as patiently as her frayed nerves allowed for Rarity to continue.
“Tomorrow, please… Teach me some more?” Her voice grew chill, solid as steel despite—or perhaps because of—its quiet intensity. “I’m tired of just barely getting away… I’m tired of being a victim, of being prey for those monsters.” She straightened in her seat, looking Jack directly in the eye. “We’ve too far to go to always be behind. So help me become good enough. Let’s make those bastards scream and run for a change, okay?”
Jack measured the woman. Her intense stare, the fire she held within her, all of it came to a boil and there was a surge of respect that came pouring into her heart for Rarity. She drew a shaky breath and then nodded.
“It ain’t much, but everythin’ I know ‘bout this kinda stuff I’ll teach ya.” Her own gaze narrowed and she nodded once more, agreeing with a thought. “An’ I’m with ya. The more we kill of those bastards, the less of ‘em ta hunt us. We’re startin’ open season on ‘em, so help me God.”
The two managed to limp into town in an almost literal sense; the car struggled and crawled, and, once they managed to park beside and duck into a nearby one-floor building that proudly proclaimed it as Jackson’s & Son’s Renovations, Jack did much the same, her muscles sore and aching and her knee terse, tight, like a coil that needed to spring, but couldn’t. She reached down, rubbing at it and glancing about the main lobby of the building.
Jack had seen her fair share of construction offices in her time; addons to the house weren’t always handled by the family, after all, and so there was a small, faint familiarity to everything within it. A desk in the corner, lined with blueprints, notes, including one circled with a red marker and an urgently scrawled ‘Call!’ wrote underneath.
Guess they didn’t realize there’d be bigger fish to fry, Jack thought to herself, unsure whether to laugh at her joke or get annoyed with herself.
She glanced past the desk, seeing a room to her right and a hallway leading onward, and also noting a few framed displays on the walls. Most were degrees, certificates or presentation rewards, like ‘best independent business, 2009’. One, however, caught her eye. It was, she assumed, Jackson of renovation fame and his sons in their youth, holding up a largemouth bass in a photograph by the lakeside, the children in it no more than eight or nine. It briefly reminded her of Spike and she spared Rarity a half-glance at the thought of the boy, but didn’t speak, at least not yet.
Rarity closed the blinds on the nearest window, her motions jerky and impatient, before quickly striding to the next window and doing the same. The blinds descended and what little bit of moonlight that shone through them died, leaving the two in almost pitch darkness.
Jack gave a small nod at the action as her eyes began to adjust to the darkness, glad that the woman was being somewhat productive. She decided to not be a burden herself and stepped forward, past the desk, checking out the room to the right.
A simple windowless bathroom stood almost hidden in the dark; though she wouldn’t be grateful for the lack of light later if nature called, for now it was one less action they needed to do to ensure their safety. She ducked back and looked down the hall. The paranoid part of her wanted to request the gun at Rarity’s side, but she shrugged that part away, mentally telling herself that they were safe, there wasn’t a need for weaponry, now away from those things.
She came to another room, this one a more lavish office with lush carpeting and two heavy set leather chairs sitting in front of a sturdy desk, pristine in comparison to the receptionist's desk out front. Jack ignored it for the time being and stepped past the desk, closing the blinds in front of a large window that housed a great view of the brick wall across the alleyway.
Almost satisfied, but not quite, she looked towards a nearby bookshelf and got to the side of it. With a grunt and a flare of her tired muscles, she shoved the bookcase over, blocking the window fully. A gut instinct called to her and she squatted down beside the desk, pulling a drawer open. Finding nothing but paperwork, files, and a cellphone, she tried another, finding much the same. At last, she offered a wry smile, reaching forward and pulling out a bottle of liquor.
If there was one thing she knew about business deals, they were usually closed with a drink; a renovation business, owned by a family man? Just seemed to go hand-in-hand.
Placing the bottle on top of the desk, she walked towards the room’s entrance and spoke in a low, raspy voice, enough to call out, hopefully not enough to draw attention to anything else that could be listening.
“Rare.”
“Our bags are still in the car.”
“What?” Jack said. She could barely see Rarity’s frame, standing by one of the windows and looking out through a sliver in the blinds.
“Our bags,” Rarity repeated. “With our bedrolls, and our toothbrushes, and—”
Jack rolled her eyes and sighed with exasperation. “Look, sug, we don’t need that shit right now, come here.”
There was a shuffle of the blinds being closed and a muted tsk, and Rarity crossed to her. Jack turned, leading her back to the office.
She marched forward and grabbed the bottle in one hand, pulling off the cap with a quick twist of her fingers. Debating on taking the first swig or not, she gave a small shrug and offered the drink to Rarity.
“Think we could use this after all-a that shit,” she said.
Rarity took the bottle gingerly from her and brought it closer to her face. And then immediately held it back.
“What is this?”
“I dunno, whiskey? Felt like a bottle of it.” Jack replied, rubbing at a bicep and working on relieving at least a few of the kinks she felt in her muscles from their earlier escapades.
Faintly she saw Rarity’s mouth turn down, but the woman brought the bottle hesitantly to her lips and took a pull, only to start hacking and coughing violently.
Jack stifled a laugh. “Hell, that bad?”
“That was not whiskey,” Rarity choked out. Jack grabbed the bottle out of her hands with a low scoff. The smell drifted up like a warning pretense before the awful taste hit her tongue. It was definitely not whiskey.
Jack’s nose wrinkled and she pulled the bottle back, wiping at her mouth in disgust. “Sure ain’t moonshine either. Like fuckin’ drinkin’ gasoline.” She grimaced, then took another drink.
“I was thinking more along the lines of rubbing alcohol,” Rarity sniffed. “And how are you still drinking it?”
“Well, let’s jus’ say my folks ain’t the only ones that tried their hand at makin’ hooch. They were jus’ the only successful ones at the job.” She reached up, rubbing at the side of her nose, then offered the bottle back to Rarity. “Jus’ don’t smell it. Hold yer breath before an’ after drinkin’ it an’ it’ll go down easier.”
“I’m not drinking that again.”
“An’ here I thought if ya could handle the folk’s moonshine, ya could handle… whatever the hell this is. Vodka?” She rolled the bottle around, still unsure.
“Disgusting, is what it is,” Rarity said, with a humph, crossing her arms.
“But it’s good distraction. God knows we could use it. Steadies the hands.”
Jack took a few steps away, dropping to one of the leather chairs with an undignified grunt and placing her hat in her lap. She took another drink, grimacing as she did so. Rarity pursed her lips, then stepped beside Jack, grabbing the bottle. She pinched her nose and took the bottle to her lips again, her face contorting in displeasure at the drink’s foulness. Finally she pulled the bottle away, coughing and putting a hand to her chest until her reaction died down.
Jack gave a single weary laugh at that as Rarity sat down in the other chair beside her.
“Surprised ya went for it,” Jack admitted.
Rarity crossed a leg over her knee and leaned back in the chair. “As you said, a distraction was a welcome thing, after an evening like ours.”
Jack gave a slow nod, shutting her eyes. “Yeah.”
“Jack?”
The woman tilted her ear, waiting on Rarity to continue.
“I’m sure tomorrow will be easier.”