It was to be expected that Ruthless reported what all had transpired promptly back to Oz, who was having his own gloriously difficult time with his brother. Once they left the generator room they moved on to the store room Charlie kept all the dry and jarred food items in, arguing the entire way—the inventory was accurate, though. He kept pickled items, jams and select dry cured meats stored full in a deep-freezer—the walk-in cooler and freezer in the kitchen store area had the power cut, he assumed to conserve energy.
He realized Charlie himself must have cured and prepared the fish, chicken, venison and pork—likely taught how by his brother before his disappearance. It was a valuable skill, one he knew would benefit his group, and eventually a community if they ever made it there. It was a wonderful stockpile for one person, and a decent one for a group the size of theirs. They could ration and eat for a few months without needing to go out often to hunt. It went without saying that what had once belonged to the youngster was now considered theirs.
Yet Colt still wanted to push on, to make for the Carolinas. Oz wanted to stay put, for a little while, to rest and recover from the insane trip they had undergone thus far. They must have traveled a wide circle through the entire country since the beginning. They had only existed in two communities for small periods of time; the first in Colorado deteriorated when mental stability of the authority figures eroded into nothing leading to a full on war and the second in southern California fell to a group of violent raiders. That was nearly a year ago, now.
They were all travel-worn and worse-for-the-wear in this condition—it was obvious more now than ever that they were starting to unravel. Another long trip all the way across the states with little promise was the very last thing they needed. It was the kind of thing that turned ally into enemy, friend to foe... they hadn't heard from the possible new settlement in a very, very long time.
A month might as well have been years of time as far as the end of days went. Communities rose and fell within' a month's time. With roving gangs of opportunists constantly on the roam--violent cannibalistic groups, and bands of sheer lunatics alike ravaging the remaining survivors of the free world, Raleigh could all but be a pipe-dream now. This was solid. This place was the first real foundation they'd come across in years, something they could build on, if they wanted to. And of course... if their host agreed with their occupation.
His men might quickly dismiss the youngster's opinion on their presence and take into consideration their own wellbeing, and at the end of the day, poor little Charlie was truly outnumbered. He could either fall in line, or be dispatched... but Oz was a far throw from that kind of thinking. He was a good man, a moral individual, but even he knew while his opinion was highly valued among the group it wasn't a dictatorship. Vicious men nevertheless still had no place in the world, as far as he was concerned. He'd allow the boy to live, to stay or leave if he so desired. It seemed he had honestly been on his way out when they came knocking on his front door.
It was another grave thing entirely to think that one of his own had mistreated the kid. His gunman seemed extremely infuriated and difficult to understand because of it, but from what he gathered Ruthless had been urged by the Dog to check up on their young host and they had walked in on some sort of... coercion... at the very least.
And so, he found himself not too long after Yuri relayed the information standing in the hallway of the youngster's suite, with a certain discomfort churning his stomach. He didn't know how to handle this. He wasn't equipped for this kind of encounter in the slightest... but he was the leader, and Charlie was not likely to trust anyone else who might come trying to extend an olive branch and draw peace.
Dog had perched precariously at the end of the hall, looking out over the sea through the small window there, glancing back to Oz absentmindedly as he arrived from the stairwell. The sun was setting, now, and night was upon them. He gave a gentle nod of acknowledgment, his haphazard locks obscuring his vision, the nifty pair of goggles attempting feebly to push the strands back and reveal an empty, albeit tentative expression.
"He in there?" Oz asked hopefully, watching as Dog nodded his head slowly, "...Is he okay?"
There wasn't a response, for a moment. Dog expelled a quiet sigh and turned away, seemingly discouraged, all the indication Oz needed to understand that their host had zero interest in interacting since he had come back with Slash this morning. Dog was positive Charlie didn't intend on coming out any time soon... he could hardly blame her.
He knew Slash, and though the man had never tried any such devious thing on him personally, he knew his tendencies; his harsh nature, rash temper and bizarre affinity for watching his enemies suffer that he seemed to share with only one other of their group. If you had to ask him... Colton was by far the more violent of the two. He just hid it better.
Ricky was a wild, aggressive, and unpredictable man. He was downright predatory by nature. Charlie, beneath her guise of a rough youngster, was soft, supple, and fragile. Dog didn't doubt Slash had frightened her half to death in that hallway before he'd come to her rescue, and part of him felt he was to blame to begin with for not making his presence known sooner. He had only wanted to watch her for a little while. Knowing now who she truly was made her every movement captivating, from the way she walked, to the lonely confidence she emitted. He had never been so drawn to anything before... never in his life.
He meant to stay close and keep her safe without disrupting her, and things had seemed harmless enough at first between her and Slash. The more he watched his comrade as they made their way back from the campsite—the way his eyes focused on Charlie and how he seemed to be in happier spirits by the moment—the more Dog realized the sinister path the situation had detoured on. Slash had never tried him like that... but Charlie? Charlie was alone, and weak... and above all, Charlie was not yet one of them.
Oz stood at the door for a few moments, frustration playing over his expression as he contemplated his next course of action. How did he even go about apologizing for what had happened? As he brought his hand up to rap gently on the door, there was a quiet shuffling from behind it, and a piece of paper slid from beneath before silence met his ears again. He bent down to retrieve it, eyes scanning over it briskly before frowning ever so slightly.
"Come on, Danny... let's give him some space. He doesn't want to be bothered." He folded the note and tucked it into the back pocket of his jeans, gesturing the youth to come along with him, glancing to the door with a frown. He supposed the youngster had answered his dilemma for him, with the contents of that note. He now had a very pressing decision to make.
They made their way to the lobby, where the rest of their group was gathered. Yuri and Ricky had decidedly chosen opposite ends of the room, with Lorenzo settled on an ottoman and Colton absently cleaning one of his firearms at the front desk.
"Well, boys... thanks to Slash, our host has no intention of interacting with us for the rest of the time we're here, and he requests we leave tonight, if possible. If that proves difficult, he's given us until noon tomorrow."
The reactions were mixed, but at the end of it, it became a matter of the real problem: divided opinions. Skully laughed uproariously at the declaration. Diablo shook his head disapprovingly as Ruthless glared rather poisonously at Slash, who only rolled his eyes in response with arms crossed as he leaned against the wall. The Dog was once again munching on an apple, quietly, standing behind Oz.
"Thanks to
me?!
The fuck? I ain't do shit 'cept bring the lil' prick back home, safe and sound... he's the one who was out 'round the cars bein' sneaky and shit. Hey!—I did what ya said to do, Boss—I gave him somethin' for clockin' him 'n tried to settle the shit between us."
"Does it seriously matter? We were only staying a night... if he says we need to go, then I agree." Colton mused, stifling his laughter as best he could, "Better to not rile him up! Who knows how dangerous he could be,
hahahaha!"
"It ain't half bad here, though. The water's clean—we got hot food, showers, DVDs and flat screen TVs and shit, I mean fuck... we just got here..." Diablo lamented with a frown.
"Fucking faggot—"
The Russian's heavy accent did little to remove the venom from the insult he threw at the group mechanic.
"I told yer stupid ass I ain't no faggot—ya best watch how the fuck ya talk to me, Ruthless!—I'm not fuckin' playin' with ya!" Ricky pulled away from the wall, snatching the hatchet from his belt and taking several steps toward the taller man, who drew the AR-15 on his shoulder up immediately and aimed squarely at his companion's chest.
"
That's enough.
"
Oz's voice was a dominating boom, demanding silence amongst them... except for idle munching from behind him, of course. The flaring tempers were temporarily extinguished, and Slash instinctively turned away, burying his hatchet into the wall instead of his companion's skull as he so desperately yearned to. "Take a walk Slash."
The wiry man ripped the hatchet free, glancing back to Oz with his wild green eyes before lurking off down the hall muttering in irritation beneath his breath.
"...Listen." Oz exhaled a heavy breath, bringing a hand up to massage his temples gently. "I know we've come a long way, and there's still a long way to go to reach the Carolinas—I know that. There's a lot that we must consider now. I want you all to bear with me. Weigh the options. We reach a unified solution, or we sit here until we do—you all know that. I value your opinions."
The men fell still. Slash lingered down the hallway, the thud of the hatchet burying itself into the wall radiating down the pleasantly lit hall, knowing well enough that he was likely to have to compensate for his offense... best to get it over with here and now than wait for him to call the boys together once again later in the day.
"Now I know... you're tired. I am, too, which is why I think we should just... rest here, for a little while. We haven't found anything this good in, what... months, maybe even longer than that—the hummer needs some work and we need a plan of action in case the community we're trying to reach isn't there anymore. No one's likely to bother us here. We can fill that trap back up with the dead, and if things get really serious, Ruthless, we can bring down that bridge and find our way around without it."
Contemplation played over the features of every man, except for Colton, who leered daggers his brother's way with his arms crossed haughtily over his chest. He leaned back in the desk chair with the polished pistol he'd been working on laying on the desk before him, simply observing as his brother once again took into zero consideration his own opinion of prolonging their stay.
"You all know the 'amenities'... at this point. The generator isn't in too bad shape, but it's going to need some maintenance if we want to have an extended stay. I'm only thinking a week or two, just so that we can all take a moment and breathe... maybe get to know little Charlie a bit. I'm certain he's weary of travelers if he's had any kind of experiences like we have in the last six years... and Slash didn't help in the slightest. I'll give you a few moments before we cast our votes."
He allowed them the time to think it over, turning and cutting down the hall to approach Slash who was now nestled quietly with his back to one of the hotel room doors, hatchet in hand. He turned his head to acknowledge Oz approaching and slowly rose to his feet, pushing his back against the wall shamelessly.
