[flashback] in the bleak midwinter long ago

[2goodarms]

The materials started coming in from the Front last week, a few days after the protein blocks: boards, risers, gym mats, army blankets, rolls of fabric that might have been curtains or carpeting. They've been putting together bunks, stacks of them, under the direction of the armed guards.

By unspoken common consensus, the very end of the last car gets curtained off for Gilliam and the others recovering from their voluntary amputation, and the first makeshift pallets are carried back to them.

The work shift is over for the day, and protein blocks are being distributed. Under a guard's watchful eye, one person -- a different one each day -- is tapped to bring food to those who can't walk out to get it for themselves.

Today it's Curtis.

The cloth pulled tight around his right arm used to be a bandana. The wound beneath it split open again last night; he hasn't been able to stop picking at it. Before, a cut like this might've meant stitches. Now it just means pain biting his arm as he cradles the protein blocks to his chest.

Curtis doesn't look up. Nobody looks at him. They part like the Red Sea when he moves, like the train cleaving through the ice. Even in this small space, they find room to get out of the way.

They still wonder if he's got a knife.

He stops in front of the curtains, exchanging an uneasy glance with the guard.

Comments

[hate_gettin_older]

Between the three of them, they manage to establish a stable balance with the baby more or less sitting on Gilliam's lap, steadied against his chest.

Predictably perhaps, Edgar almost immediately moves to destabilize it, trying to lunge out of Gilliam's restraining arm as though convinced he can already walk. Or swim, perhaps; one chubby hand is flailing as though trying to push himself forward.

[2goodarms]

"Hey, knock it off," says Curtis, grabbing the kid's hand.

A beat later, he seems to realize what he's done, and instantly lets go as if he'd touched a chunk of ice.

[hate_gettin_older]

Edgar blinks up at him, round-eyed.

And then cracks a big gap-toothed grin and reaches that same hand out toward Curtis again.

[2goodarms]

Curtis draws his hand far out of reach and throws an equally round-eyed look toward Gilliam and Tanya.

He could not telegraph HELP ME more clearly if he'd shouted it at top volume.

[snowpiercer_npcs]

"He wants to play with you," says Tanya; the dumbass she tacks onto the end, while unspoken, is clearly audible.

[2goodarms]

Faint, and a little accusatory, Curtis replies, "You said they only had three modes."

[snowpiercer_npcs]

"Yeah, and looks like he's growing a fourth one."

[2goodarms]

Curtis bites his lip, glancing back toward Edgar.

[snowpiercer_npcs]

Edgar waves his hand insistently, trying to lean forward again.

"Give it a try," Gilliam murmurs. "It's worth a try, isn't it?"

[2goodarms]

"He doesn't recognize me."

It's hard to tell from Curtis' tone whether that's a good thing or a bad one. Even he's not wholly sure.

[snowpiercer_npcs]

Gilliam's eyebrows rise a little. "Did you expect him to?"

[2goodarms]

He shrugs, a little helplessly, and finally -- with some trepidation -- offers his hand back to Edgar.

The baby latches on with a gleeful giggle.

[snowpiercer_npcs]

Tanya looks very much like she's suppressing a grin.

Gilliam isn't bothering to suppress; he's smiling broadly. "Here," he says, nodding toward the half-eaten protein block on the pallet next to him. "See if he'll take a little."

[2goodarms]

"Um..."

Edgar's probably gonna start fussing if Curtis pulls his hand away again. With a stifled wince, he stretches to grab one corner of the protein block, twisting it from side to side until it a small chunk comes loose.

"Okay," he mutters, mostly to himself, before offering the quote-unquote food to Edgar.

[hate_gettin_older]

Edgar blinks, focusing with some effort on the new thing in front of his face.

He lets go of Curtis's hand and reaches for the dark blob instead. Maybe it's something new to play with!

[2goodarms]

Well, that's promising.

"Yeah," he murmurs, relinquishing the chunk of protein block. "There you go. Go ahead and eat it."

[hate_gettin_older]

The baby laughs again, waving the squishy blob in his fist.

Apparently he's going to explore all its possibilities as a plaything before trying to eat it.

[2goodarms]

Curtis sighs. "No, you don't play with it, you eat it," he says. Miming lifting something to his mouth: "Eat? Come on. That's food, not a toy."

Food's too precious to be a toy.

[hate_gettin_older]

"Aaglth," Edgar declares, and pushes the blob back at Curtis.

[2goodarms]

Great.

"This isn't gonna work," he mutters, and takes the blob from Edgar's hand with another sigh. A glance at Tanya. "Maybe he's not hungry?"

[snowpiercer_npcs]

"Show him you're supposed to eat it," suggests Tanya. "Don't just tell him."

[2goodarms]

Curtis shakes his head, but...what the hell. He breaks off a tiny piece of the blob, shows it to Edgar, then pops it into his mouth.

"Mmm," he says weakly, trying not to gag. Once he's swallowed: "See? It's food."

[snowpiercer_npcs]

"Try putting it in his mouth," Gilliam suggests, for all the world as though kibitzing in a chess game.

Tanya nods, and looks expectant.

[2goodarms]

By this point, Curtis' sighs may as well be punctuation.

He pulls off more of the blob. "Your turn," he says to Edgar. "Open up. Aaaaah."

"Aaaaaah," Edgar mimics, and swiftly, Curtis seizes the moment and crams the protein into his mouth.

[hate_gettin_older]

The aaah cuts off with a startled-sounding mmph!, and Edgar's face creases in a puzzled frown. His mouth works a couple of times, gumming the strange new thing, trying to decide whether or not he approves of this development.

And then comes a clearly visible moment when he decides that yes, this is food and he will eat it.