Watchmen: Red Sky (1/?)
Aug. 5th, 2010 09:50 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
what_we_dreamTitle: Red Sky (1/?)
Series: Watchmen
Pairing: Dan/Rorschach
Rating: PG-13
Notes: This is UNFINISHED and will remain so. Comic-verse.
Summary: The world doesn't end. So it's up to the capes to clean up the mess. Isn't it?
They fly back to New York in silence. Daniel’s sure Rorschach is already coming up with complex plans to unmask Veidt and start a second apocalypse. Himself, he doesn’t even know how to deal with the first. He spends the flight pretending he’s not sure Archie’s trustworthy enough for automatic pilot. He turns it on only long enough to change out of his costume – when they reach New York the Keene Act will still be in place, and they’ll have enough problems as it is. He considers raising the issue with Rorschach, but the man can do the math as well as him and the last thing he needs right now is to lose his confidence. He returns to his seat and concentrates on making small unnecessary adjustments to keep his mind on flying rather than what will meet them when they land.
Or what they left behind them.
It’s the human condition to catalogue and separate the world into two categories: things that directly affect me, and things that don’t. Daniel likes to think he’s open-minded enough to give a fair amount of thought and attention to the latter – surely dressing up in an owl costume and fighting crime which would be unlikely to directly affect him speaks to that – but when the chips are down instinct kicks in like a mule on amphetamines. By the time the island’s in sight, Daniel has collapsed the destruction of New York and the deaths of millions of people to two simple factors: his sister and his niece. They are his mission, his focus, his touchstone in a city of horrors.
He wonders vaguely whether Rorschach, with nothing to stabilize him, could get any crazier. Whether he should be worried about it. But no, he decides. Rorschach of all people will be coldly controlled even in the red dawn of genocide. He’s already been through insanity and out the other side.
As it turns out, Archie does have more problems than Daniel credited him with. Not least among those are lack of fuel. The light goes on when they’re flying up over the bay and it’s easily noticeable because Archie is running on minimal power which means no cockpit lights, and the world outside is black. Absolute, dead black.
Dawn isn’t for another 3 hours. However Adrian managed to drop the creature into the city, it clearly wiped out power not only to Manhattan but Staten Island, Jersey and Brooklyn. At least. Which means millions of people – if there are that many left alive – trying to deal with this catastrophe in the dark.
Line from the news reports flash in – pregnant woman convinced her child was eating her – child eating his sibling – father swinging baby into wall by feet – and Daniel knows the city’s nightmares will be unbearable, will carry off a whole new crop of victims before dawn.
However, he has more immediate problems to deal with – as Archie begins to run low on fuel he begins kicking and shuddering, sending an unprepared Rorschach tumbling into a wall and nearly tipping Daniel out of his seat. Rorschach grunts as he pulls himself up but doesn’t comment otherwise, choosing instead to stand behind Daniel’s chair holding himself steady with the backrest and watch the fight to convince Archie to straighten up and fly right.
It’s a failing one.
They make it as far as Saint George on Staten Island, the ship flying so low they’re in danger from the dark street lights. Daniel brings them down in the middle of a street dotted with cars abandoned helter-skelter along the asphalt, parks Archie next to a rusting Ford pick-up.
“Ship’s not safe here,” points out Rorschach from behind him.
“I can’t fix it with what I have here – that’ll take the equipment in my basement. Which we’re not sure even still exists. And even if it does, we have no way of getting it there. We have bigger concerns.”
Rorschach pauses for a moment, and Daniel hopes he’s not going to argue.
The answer is, although predictable, worse. “Right. Massive looting will be beginning soon, if not already. Ship is a secondary concern; primary goal should be –”
Daniel swivels around to cut him off, “ – So help me, Rorschach, if you say crime fighting –”
“Vandalism, violence, lawlessness – all must be prevented, Daniel.”
“There are people out there dying, for God’s sake! They need our help more than some poor hungry bastards need you punching them in the face for breaking into 7-11.”
“Order must be maintained.”
“Life must be maintained! We are sane and able and we are going to help people! That is what we do. We can worry about booking them for petty theft and rioting later. Hell, I could do with some of either or both right now.” He sighs deeply and passes a hand over his face, comes up against the goggles he’s long since forgotten he’s still wearing – forgot to take them off with the costume. They must have practically sealed to his skin by now, creating neat oval creases in his flabby skin, owl rings.
“Our goals are not compatible, Daniel,” says Rorschach after a minute, in his usual low rasp. Daniel wonder whether the moment was for thinking, or out of some tiny prick of kindness, or simply fatigue.
“My sister’s out there,” he replies quietly. “And my niece – she’s 4, Rorschach.” He wishes she were old enough for Rorschach to know, to have met back in their days of partnership, which rationally sounds really screwed up because who the hell would want to introduce an innocent child to Rorschach, but still. Well, most of the desire is just out of the futile hope that the man would be more likely to help find people he knew, which is just stupid anyway. Whatever motivates Rorschach, it’s certainly not personal relationships.
Nevertheless, the man is silent for a long pause. It’s only then that Daniel realises how silent the city is. Probably, in fact, not that much more silent than it would normally be at 3am, but in light of the situation the eeriness is enough to raise the hairs on the back of his neck and a cold chill to produce goose bumps on his arms.
“First goal: get to Manhattan,” grits out the other man, slicing into the silence like a dull razor. “After that –”
“We’ll see when we get there,” says Daniel before he can finish.
Because he knows as soon as he lets Rorschach out of his sight, the man will be shouting the news to the heavens: Veidt did this.
And then Veidt will kill him.
----------------------------------------
As much as Daniel knows it’s the only option, abandoning Archie in the silent street hurts. He almost tries to make a case for bringing the ship across the bay to Manhattan – he floats, they could set up some kind of propeller and rudder, they could wait for the tide and help by rowing – but as much as he wants not to let go of his brilliant brainchild, that’s just not practical. It will take time and wasted effort, and even if he could somehow get Rorschach to agree to it and they made it across the bay without running into trouble with bystanders in the daylight which it would be by the time they finally got him over to the opposite shore, they would have wasted hours and hours and that may be time Jenny and Nicole just don’t have.
So he stands in the cold street, Rorschach behind him standing still but still somehow radiating impatience, locks the hatch with the remote and gives the ship one final pat.
“Bye, buddy,” he says quietly and refuses to let himself think of it as a victim of this catastrophe because it’s just a ship and there are millions of dead people out there.
It still hurts.
They make for the docks and the ferry, on the logic that if the streets here are hindered by abandoned cars, the streets in Brooklyn will be impassable and the Island – well.
Apart from the abandoned cars and the eerie silence, the city seems normal. No damage that his goggles show, no smell of fires or blood or anything else that he had half-expected when conjuring up a mental image of the destruction they would find. As if this was something that could be imagined.
They walk in silence, and in darkness. He broke out a flashlight when they got out of Archie, but Rorschach stopped him with a hand to his wrist – he jumped at the contact. And then realised what the man was about. Afraid that the light would draw attention, would draw the curious, would possibly even draw attackers. The fact that Rorschach is actually possibly avoiding confrontation is enough to make him do as suggested without question.
They carry with them as much as they can, weighted down with two messenger-bags each filled with the ship’s emergency supplies. With water and dried food, with simple medical supplies and thermal blankets, with some equipment for him and some extra house-hold weapons for Rorschach. They’re going to treat the destruction of a city with a few bottles of rubbing alcohol, some Aspirin, and extra pairs of socks. He doesn’t know which is more screwed up anymore: them, or the world.
After a while it occurs to him to wonder how it is Rorschach is seeing without night vision with no lights, when the man is walking along side him rather than following in his footsteps, and has actually stepped around obstacles a few times. He pulls off his goggles, the only part of his costume he kept, blinking as the cold air hits his eyes and the grooves left by the frames twinge at the sudden lack of pressure. And, after a couple of blinks to switch down from the night vision, realises that he can see as well and looks up.
“Hey,” he says, stopping in the middle of the street. Rorschach stops as well, a dusky shadow walking straight-backed despite the extra pounds hanging from his shoulders – he refuses to hang the bags across his chest, presumably so he can throw them off if he needs to tackle someone on short notice.
“What?”
“The sky. Look.”
Rorschach glances up. “Still there,” he notes, bored.
Daniel is too shocked to be irritated. “Not that. Look. The stars.”
“Yes, Daniel. They come out at night.”
“Yeah, but when was the last time you actually saw them? You can’t see them in the city, not with the light pollution, and the regular pollution for that matter. When was the last time you saw them?”
“Now is not time –”
“Not time to wonder at small marvels? We’re not going to find any tomorrow, I can tell you that.” He’d like to be wrong. He knows he won’t be.
“Daniel,” says Rorschach, in his you are behaving like a naïve fool voice.
Daniel sighs. “I know. But… it’s… I hope we’re not the only ones who noticed, you know?”
“Hope you’re not the only one who noticed,” mutters Rorschach in what sounds like a kind of disgusted resignation. Daniel smiles anyway, just a twitch, because he’s already remembering Rorschach’s moods and he knows them well enough to recognize the difference between sounds like and is.
----------------------------------------
The Staten Island Ferry, predictably, is not there. Daniel has no idea where they are, prays not in the bottom of the Bay although from what they heard on the news the closer to the Manhattan side they were the worse anyway. And besides, he thinks hijacking the Ferry might be just a bit beyond them. Well, probably not, but he’d feel damn guilty about it.
The piers are also mostly empty – one tanker in for loading, and one huge Coast Guard ship. Neither really in their demographic. Rorschach, regardless, is eyeing the Coast Guard ship. Or at least facing in its direction.
“No way,” he says. “I have no experience piloting ships – something that big would be completely –”
“Rescue ship,” says Rorschach.
“…Yes,” says Daniel. “But the fact that we’re on a rescue mission doesn’t –”
“Rescue ship, ergo, rescue boats. Surely some sort of smaller more manoeuvrable craft on board.”
Daniel feels like hitting himself in the forehead. “Right. Good idea. Let’s go.”
----------------------------------------
It takes them half an hour and two flashlights to lower a zodiac into the harbour, and even then they nearly lose both of Rorschach’s emergency bags – saved by a dive from Daniel at the last moment, which nearly loses him in the harbour. Rorschach makes a quiet hrmm noise which may be embarrassment or just indifference.
Daniel, by tradition, drives. The motor’s only 100hp, but the wind is minimal and the water’s calm. Rorschach sits near the bow, one hand on his hat, staring out into the darkness in the direction of Manhattan. The boat has a searchlight mounted on the bow, which Rorschach will hopefully decide to turn on eventually – it’s not as though he can expect them to make a stealthy approach with the motor howling.
The closer they get, the harder it’s becoming to focus. The more the fear is seeping in, the combined fear for his family and of what he’ll find walking the streets. The first is concrete, is strong, is easier to hold on to and for now easier to deal with. He turns to it for stability, retreats into a single diamond-hard mission: find Jenny, find Nicole. Find family, and keep them safe.
Two days ago, he would have had Hollis on that list. He tightens his hand on the motor’s grip and grits his teeth.
In the bow, Rorschach turns on the light, sending a white shaft slicing out into the darkness and revealing a shadow looming over the water several hundred yards ahead of them. New York. Whatever’s left of it. He feels sick to his stomach, and hopes it’s expectation and not whatever caused those people to start carving up their nearest relatives – dear God Jenny, Nicole – because if push comes to shove Rorschach’ll have him gutted before he’s noticed.
“Feeling okay?” he asks, the shaking of his voice barely noticeable with the wind.
“Fine,” returns Rorschach flatly, one hand on the light, the other on his hat.
“Uh, good. Let me know if you see any obstacles.”
----------------------------------------
As they draw closer, it becomes clear that the entire harbour is one big obstacle. The long concrete piers have been crushed like eggshell, although what by is not immediately evident. Daniel drops the engine speed and they navigate in between the tiny islands of shattered pier at a crawl, Rorschach directing and fending off while he does his best to steer which at negligible speeds isn’t easy.
They finally end up bumping off a piece of pier which in the harsh slice of spotlight is connected firmly enough to the land beyond to allow passage, and Daniel cuts the engine and leaves them in the same silence.
They climb out of the boat, Daniel pillaging a few more emergency supplies and Rorschach pillaging a few more emergency weapons and sundry items which Daniel can divine no immediate use for – nail clippers, a magazine, a pack of pens. Rorschach mounts the uneven trail to land with the stiff confidence of a mountain goat. Daniel scrambles up behind him with determination in place of confidence.
Near the water the air smells mostly of salt and the seaweedy scent of the ocean. Once they walk up past the piers and into Manhattan, the smell changes. The air changes. Daniel gasps, and struggles not to be sick.
There’s a thick, viscous reek of rotting flesh, of the rotten-egg smell of sulphur and a sickening mix like sewage and blood. All the scents the brain is hardwired to recognize as disgusting and dangerous. The strength is incredible, overpowering, so thick Daniel feels like he walked into a wall and actually reels in the poor light to catch himself on something faintly warm. Something wet and soft that gives under his hands like a heap of flabby fat and sends a wave of stench straight at him. He retches then, bringing up what little’s in his stomach in one heave, and stumbles away from whatever-it-is to fall on the uneven road with a hissing gasp.
Rorschach turns on a flashlight behind him. In the weak beam they stare at the tentacle, wider then they are tall, coated with a sticky layer of clear ooze that’s pooling like saliva around its tip, impossibly bright – alien bright. Rorschach turns off the light, grabs him by the shoulder, and hauls him to his feet.
“Jenny,” he chokes out, latching on to the one thought he can still find. Holds it with a tight desperation in the suffocating stench while the rest of his mind whirls in a sickening spiral and the cold of shock clenches his stomach and chatters his teeth for him.
“Daniel, the city comes first.”
“I’ve gotta find Jenny,” he stutters out. Breaks away from Rorschach and takes a few stumbling steps away from the harbour and the – the thing. Towards his sister. His niece. His family.
He has to find his family.
“Daniel,” says a voice – says Rorschach – behind him. He ignores it, carries on. He’ll find her, find them, and then things will be okay. Then he’ll be able to live, to go on, to think. He blindly follows the route his legs know without needing his brain, follows years of trips to visit his sister. Trips over the kerb, over something that gives under his shoe, over a piece of pipe and falls with a jolt. Tries to pull himself to his feet, coordination difficult, head thick, and finds himself yanked to his feet again.
“Daniel –”
“I n-need to find Jenny.” He’s walking again, pulling away from Rorschach. The man lets him, but keeps up with him, steering him around something he doesn’t see, grabbing his elbow when he trips. After a while he speaks, startling Daniel who has nearly forgotten he’s there, nearly forgotten who is tugging and pushing at him.
“Find sister first. Then protect justice.”
“Find Jenny,” he insists, grasping the important part of the sentence with an iron grip.
“Yes, Daniel.”
Slowly, the sky to their right brightens. Fine, thin clouds spread across it like spun sugar.
Finally, hours after landing in New York, the sun rises, and paints the sky red.
Series: Watchmen
Pairing: Dan/Rorschach
Rating: PG-13
Notes: This is UNFINISHED and will remain so. Comic-verse.
Summary: The world doesn't end. So it's up to the capes to clean up the mess. Isn't it?
They fly back to New York in silence. Daniel’s sure Rorschach is already coming up with complex plans to unmask Veidt and start a second apocalypse. Himself, he doesn’t even know how to deal with the first. He spends the flight pretending he’s not sure Archie’s trustworthy enough for automatic pilot. He turns it on only long enough to change out of his costume – when they reach New York the Keene Act will still be in place, and they’ll have enough problems as it is. He considers raising the issue with Rorschach, but the man can do the math as well as him and the last thing he needs right now is to lose his confidence. He returns to his seat and concentrates on making small unnecessary adjustments to keep his mind on flying rather than what will meet them when they land.
Or what they left behind them.
It’s the human condition to catalogue and separate the world into two categories: things that directly affect me, and things that don’t. Daniel likes to think he’s open-minded enough to give a fair amount of thought and attention to the latter – surely dressing up in an owl costume and fighting crime which would be unlikely to directly affect him speaks to that – but when the chips are down instinct kicks in like a mule on amphetamines. By the time the island’s in sight, Daniel has collapsed the destruction of New York and the deaths of millions of people to two simple factors: his sister and his niece. They are his mission, his focus, his touchstone in a city of horrors.
He wonders vaguely whether Rorschach, with nothing to stabilize him, could get any crazier. Whether he should be worried about it. But no, he decides. Rorschach of all people will be coldly controlled even in the red dawn of genocide. He’s already been through insanity and out the other side.
As it turns out, Archie does have more problems than Daniel credited him with. Not least among those are lack of fuel. The light goes on when they’re flying up over the bay and it’s easily noticeable because Archie is running on minimal power which means no cockpit lights, and the world outside is black. Absolute, dead black.
Dawn isn’t for another 3 hours. However Adrian managed to drop the creature into the city, it clearly wiped out power not only to Manhattan but Staten Island, Jersey and Brooklyn. At least. Which means millions of people – if there are that many left alive – trying to deal with this catastrophe in the dark.
Line from the news reports flash in – pregnant woman convinced her child was eating her – child eating his sibling – father swinging baby into wall by feet – and Daniel knows the city’s nightmares will be unbearable, will carry off a whole new crop of victims before dawn.
However, he has more immediate problems to deal with – as Archie begins to run low on fuel he begins kicking and shuddering, sending an unprepared Rorschach tumbling into a wall and nearly tipping Daniel out of his seat. Rorschach grunts as he pulls himself up but doesn’t comment otherwise, choosing instead to stand behind Daniel’s chair holding himself steady with the backrest and watch the fight to convince Archie to straighten up and fly right.
It’s a failing one.
They make it as far as Saint George on Staten Island, the ship flying so low they’re in danger from the dark street lights. Daniel brings them down in the middle of a street dotted with cars abandoned helter-skelter along the asphalt, parks Archie next to a rusting Ford pick-up.
“Ship’s not safe here,” points out Rorschach from behind him.
“I can’t fix it with what I have here – that’ll take the equipment in my basement. Which we’re not sure even still exists. And even if it does, we have no way of getting it there. We have bigger concerns.”
Rorschach pauses for a moment, and Daniel hopes he’s not going to argue.
The answer is, although predictable, worse. “Right. Massive looting will be beginning soon, if not already. Ship is a secondary concern; primary goal should be –”
Daniel swivels around to cut him off, “ – So help me, Rorschach, if you say crime fighting –”
“Vandalism, violence, lawlessness – all must be prevented, Daniel.”
“There are people out there dying, for God’s sake! They need our help more than some poor hungry bastards need you punching them in the face for breaking into 7-11.”
“Order must be maintained.”
“Life must be maintained! We are sane and able and we are going to help people! That is what we do. We can worry about booking them for petty theft and rioting later. Hell, I could do with some of either or both right now.” He sighs deeply and passes a hand over his face, comes up against the goggles he’s long since forgotten he’s still wearing – forgot to take them off with the costume. They must have practically sealed to his skin by now, creating neat oval creases in his flabby skin, owl rings.
“Our goals are not compatible, Daniel,” says Rorschach after a minute, in his usual low rasp. Daniel wonder whether the moment was for thinking, or out of some tiny prick of kindness, or simply fatigue.
“My sister’s out there,” he replies quietly. “And my niece – she’s 4, Rorschach.” He wishes she were old enough for Rorschach to know, to have met back in their days of partnership, which rationally sounds really screwed up because who the hell would want to introduce an innocent child to Rorschach, but still. Well, most of the desire is just out of the futile hope that the man would be more likely to help find people he knew, which is just stupid anyway. Whatever motivates Rorschach, it’s certainly not personal relationships.
Nevertheless, the man is silent for a long pause. It’s only then that Daniel realises how silent the city is. Probably, in fact, not that much more silent than it would normally be at 3am, but in light of the situation the eeriness is enough to raise the hairs on the back of his neck and a cold chill to produce goose bumps on his arms.
“First goal: get to Manhattan,” grits out the other man, slicing into the silence like a dull razor. “After that –”
“We’ll see when we get there,” says Daniel before he can finish.
Because he knows as soon as he lets Rorschach out of his sight, the man will be shouting the news to the heavens: Veidt did this.
And then Veidt will kill him.
----------------------------------------
As much as Daniel knows it’s the only option, abandoning Archie in the silent street hurts. He almost tries to make a case for bringing the ship across the bay to Manhattan – he floats, they could set up some kind of propeller and rudder, they could wait for the tide and help by rowing – but as much as he wants not to let go of his brilliant brainchild, that’s just not practical. It will take time and wasted effort, and even if he could somehow get Rorschach to agree to it and they made it across the bay without running into trouble with bystanders in the daylight which it would be by the time they finally got him over to the opposite shore, they would have wasted hours and hours and that may be time Jenny and Nicole just don’t have.
So he stands in the cold street, Rorschach behind him standing still but still somehow radiating impatience, locks the hatch with the remote and gives the ship one final pat.
“Bye, buddy,” he says quietly and refuses to let himself think of it as a victim of this catastrophe because it’s just a ship and there are millions of dead people out there.
It still hurts.
They make for the docks and the ferry, on the logic that if the streets here are hindered by abandoned cars, the streets in Brooklyn will be impassable and the Island – well.
Apart from the abandoned cars and the eerie silence, the city seems normal. No damage that his goggles show, no smell of fires or blood or anything else that he had half-expected when conjuring up a mental image of the destruction they would find. As if this was something that could be imagined.
They walk in silence, and in darkness. He broke out a flashlight when they got out of Archie, but Rorschach stopped him with a hand to his wrist – he jumped at the contact. And then realised what the man was about. Afraid that the light would draw attention, would draw the curious, would possibly even draw attackers. The fact that Rorschach is actually possibly avoiding confrontation is enough to make him do as suggested without question.
They carry with them as much as they can, weighted down with two messenger-bags each filled with the ship’s emergency supplies. With water and dried food, with simple medical supplies and thermal blankets, with some equipment for him and some extra house-hold weapons for Rorschach. They’re going to treat the destruction of a city with a few bottles of rubbing alcohol, some Aspirin, and extra pairs of socks. He doesn’t know which is more screwed up anymore: them, or the world.
After a while it occurs to him to wonder how it is Rorschach is seeing without night vision with no lights, when the man is walking along side him rather than following in his footsteps, and has actually stepped around obstacles a few times. He pulls off his goggles, the only part of his costume he kept, blinking as the cold air hits his eyes and the grooves left by the frames twinge at the sudden lack of pressure. And, after a couple of blinks to switch down from the night vision, realises that he can see as well and looks up.
“Hey,” he says, stopping in the middle of the street. Rorschach stops as well, a dusky shadow walking straight-backed despite the extra pounds hanging from his shoulders – he refuses to hang the bags across his chest, presumably so he can throw them off if he needs to tackle someone on short notice.
“What?”
“The sky. Look.”
Rorschach glances up. “Still there,” he notes, bored.
Daniel is too shocked to be irritated. “Not that. Look. The stars.”
“Yes, Daniel. They come out at night.”
“Yeah, but when was the last time you actually saw them? You can’t see them in the city, not with the light pollution, and the regular pollution for that matter. When was the last time you saw them?”
“Now is not time –”
“Not time to wonder at small marvels? We’re not going to find any tomorrow, I can tell you that.” He’d like to be wrong. He knows he won’t be.
“Daniel,” says Rorschach, in his you are behaving like a naïve fool voice.
Daniel sighs. “I know. But… it’s… I hope we’re not the only ones who noticed, you know?”
“Hope you’re not the only one who noticed,” mutters Rorschach in what sounds like a kind of disgusted resignation. Daniel smiles anyway, just a twitch, because he’s already remembering Rorschach’s moods and he knows them well enough to recognize the difference between sounds like and is.
----------------------------------------
The Staten Island Ferry, predictably, is not there. Daniel has no idea where they are, prays not in the bottom of the Bay although from what they heard on the news the closer to the Manhattan side they were the worse anyway. And besides, he thinks hijacking the Ferry might be just a bit beyond them. Well, probably not, but he’d feel damn guilty about it.
The piers are also mostly empty – one tanker in for loading, and one huge Coast Guard ship. Neither really in their demographic. Rorschach, regardless, is eyeing the Coast Guard ship. Or at least facing in its direction.
“No way,” he says. “I have no experience piloting ships – something that big would be completely –”
“Rescue ship,” says Rorschach.
“…Yes,” says Daniel. “But the fact that we’re on a rescue mission doesn’t –”
“Rescue ship, ergo, rescue boats. Surely some sort of smaller more manoeuvrable craft on board.”
Daniel feels like hitting himself in the forehead. “Right. Good idea. Let’s go.”
----------------------------------------
It takes them half an hour and two flashlights to lower a zodiac into the harbour, and even then they nearly lose both of Rorschach’s emergency bags – saved by a dive from Daniel at the last moment, which nearly loses him in the harbour. Rorschach makes a quiet hrmm noise which may be embarrassment or just indifference.
Daniel, by tradition, drives. The motor’s only 100hp, but the wind is minimal and the water’s calm. Rorschach sits near the bow, one hand on his hat, staring out into the darkness in the direction of Manhattan. The boat has a searchlight mounted on the bow, which Rorschach will hopefully decide to turn on eventually – it’s not as though he can expect them to make a stealthy approach with the motor howling.
The closer they get, the harder it’s becoming to focus. The more the fear is seeping in, the combined fear for his family and of what he’ll find walking the streets. The first is concrete, is strong, is easier to hold on to and for now easier to deal with. He turns to it for stability, retreats into a single diamond-hard mission: find Jenny, find Nicole. Find family, and keep them safe.
Two days ago, he would have had Hollis on that list. He tightens his hand on the motor’s grip and grits his teeth.
In the bow, Rorschach turns on the light, sending a white shaft slicing out into the darkness and revealing a shadow looming over the water several hundred yards ahead of them. New York. Whatever’s left of it. He feels sick to his stomach, and hopes it’s expectation and not whatever caused those people to start carving up their nearest relatives – dear God Jenny, Nicole – because if push comes to shove Rorschach’ll have him gutted before he’s noticed.
“Feeling okay?” he asks, the shaking of his voice barely noticeable with the wind.
“Fine,” returns Rorschach flatly, one hand on the light, the other on his hat.
“Uh, good. Let me know if you see any obstacles.”
----------------------------------------
As they draw closer, it becomes clear that the entire harbour is one big obstacle. The long concrete piers have been crushed like eggshell, although what by is not immediately evident. Daniel drops the engine speed and they navigate in between the tiny islands of shattered pier at a crawl, Rorschach directing and fending off while he does his best to steer which at negligible speeds isn’t easy.
They finally end up bumping off a piece of pier which in the harsh slice of spotlight is connected firmly enough to the land beyond to allow passage, and Daniel cuts the engine and leaves them in the same silence.
They climb out of the boat, Daniel pillaging a few more emergency supplies and Rorschach pillaging a few more emergency weapons and sundry items which Daniel can divine no immediate use for – nail clippers, a magazine, a pack of pens. Rorschach mounts the uneven trail to land with the stiff confidence of a mountain goat. Daniel scrambles up behind him with determination in place of confidence.
Near the water the air smells mostly of salt and the seaweedy scent of the ocean. Once they walk up past the piers and into Manhattan, the smell changes. The air changes. Daniel gasps, and struggles not to be sick.
There’s a thick, viscous reek of rotting flesh, of the rotten-egg smell of sulphur and a sickening mix like sewage and blood. All the scents the brain is hardwired to recognize as disgusting and dangerous. The strength is incredible, overpowering, so thick Daniel feels like he walked into a wall and actually reels in the poor light to catch himself on something faintly warm. Something wet and soft that gives under his hands like a heap of flabby fat and sends a wave of stench straight at him. He retches then, bringing up what little’s in his stomach in one heave, and stumbles away from whatever-it-is to fall on the uneven road with a hissing gasp.
Rorschach turns on a flashlight behind him. In the weak beam they stare at the tentacle, wider then they are tall, coated with a sticky layer of clear ooze that’s pooling like saliva around its tip, impossibly bright – alien bright. Rorschach turns off the light, grabs him by the shoulder, and hauls him to his feet.
“Jenny,” he chokes out, latching on to the one thought he can still find. Holds it with a tight desperation in the suffocating stench while the rest of his mind whirls in a sickening spiral and the cold of shock clenches his stomach and chatters his teeth for him.
“Daniel, the city comes first.”
“I’ve gotta find Jenny,” he stutters out. Breaks away from Rorschach and takes a few stumbling steps away from the harbour and the – the thing. Towards his sister. His niece. His family.
He has to find his family.
“Daniel,” says a voice – says Rorschach – behind him. He ignores it, carries on. He’ll find her, find them, and then things will be okay. Then he’ll be able to live, to go on, to think. He blindly follows the route his legs know without needing his brain, follows years of trips to visit his sister. Trips over the kerb, over something that gives under his shoe, over a piece of pipe and falls with a jolt. Tries to pull himself to his feet, coordination difficult, head thick, and finds himself yanked to his feet again.
“Daniel –”
“I n-need to find Jenny.” He’s walking again, pulling away from Rorschach. The man lets him, but keeps up with him, steering him around something he doesn’t see, grabbing his elbow when he trips. After a while he speaks, startling Daniel who has nearly forgotten he’s there, nearly forgotten who is tugging and pushing at him.
“Find sister first. Then protect justice.”
“Find Jenny,” he insists, grasping the important part of the sentence with an iron grip.
“Yes, Daniel.”
Slowly, the sky to their right brightens. Fine, thin clouds spread across it like spun sugar.
Finally, hours after landing in New York, the sun rises, and paints the sky red.
