[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

[2goodarms]

He probably shouldn't be, after everything. But it's not like they can just wad up the diaper and toss it in the trash, and wiping somebody else's ass is never fun.

Curtis hunches his shoulders, unconsciously. In a mutter, without looking at Tanya, "What've you been using for them?"

[snowpiercer_npcs]

"Someone tore up a sheet for rags. We got to figure out some better way of getting them clean again, though, or they won't do much longer."

That's to Gilliam, as though Tanya's expecting him to come up with an answer. He nods, frowning, and rubs at one corner of his scrubby beard.

[2goodarms]

Curtis is quiet, letting Edgar grab at his fingers again and swing his hand back and forth.

"We got any way of collecting our own water?" he asks, eventually.

[snowpiercer_npcs]

"If we could ... no, I'm not sure." Gilliam's frown deepens. "There's bound to be somebody back here who might have some idea. Could the two of you ask around?"

[2goodarms]

"Sure, yeah. -- Ow!"

Edgar, in his quest to drag Curtis closer, has yanked on Curtis' hand hard enough to twist the cut further up his arm.

[hate_gettin_older]

Edgar lets out a yelp of dismay, though it's hard to say whether that's from Curtis's ow or his hand being jerked away.

(Gilliam's eyes are abruptly very watchful, fixed on Curtis.)

[2goodarms]

"Goddammit," he swears, cradling his arm close. His eyes flash with anger as he glances from the injury to Edgar -- but then it shutters itself away, and he swears again, softer, as he hunches further into himself.

[snowpiercer_npcs]

Tanya looks at Gilliam: should I take him?

He's not looking at her.

Very gently: "Are you all right, Curtis?"

[2goodarms]

"Yeah," he mutters, unfelt.

[snowpiercer_npcs]

There's a pause, in which Edgar's faint sniffing is clearly audible.


With no change in tone, Gilliam says "Try giving him your other hand."

[2goodarms]

No, he wants to say. Fuck off. I'm done.




Silently, still without looking up -- and still with his right arm pulled close -- Curtis offers his left hand to Edgar.

[hate_gettin_older]

Edgar reaches out for it unhesitatingly, tiny pudgy fingers wrapping around Curtis's thumb.

[2goodarms]

Fresh tears prickle his eyes before he can stop himself.

How can he do this? Forgive Curtis so readily? He's just a kid, he doesn't understand, but even after Curtis yells at him he just...

Goddammit. He sniffles, louder than he intends, and wipes at his nose with the back of his free hand.

[snowpiercer_npcs]

Apparently what Edgar wants here is to see if Curtis's thumb will fit into his mouth.

Tanya looks for a second like she wants to object, but then sighs and shakes her head. "Ain't no use right now telling you not to let him chew on anything dirty. Just do your best on that."

[2goodarms]

Curtis snorts out a watery...well, it's not really a laugh, but it's a better sound than he's made in a while. He looks up at Edgar.

"Maybe he'll end up never getting sick," he says. "Like...this whole cesspit back here'll vaccinate him."

[snowpiercer_npcs]

"I don't think that's quite how vaccinations work," Gilliam murmurs. "But maybe."

[2goodarms]

Curtis shrugs; carefully, this time, so he doesn't dislodge his finger from Edgar's mouth.

So long as Edgar doesn't chomp down with a few of those newly-minted teeth, it's probably not going to hurt anything. If he was going to get sick from all the shit back here -- literal and figurative both -- it would've happened sooner.



"You've got a thumb of your own you could suck on too, you know," he points out, with faint (very faint) amusement.

[hate_gettin_older]

"Mlumb," Edgar counters.

He's gnawing more than sucking, but not biting hard.

[snowpiercer_npcs]

"Some kind of toy he could chew on would be real good," Tanya muses. "He ain't through teething."

[2goodarms]

"Maybe something cold." Dry, "That shouldn't be hard to find."

Curtis ponders for a few more seconds.

"You think the walls would get cold enough to freeze something? If we get enough water to soak a couple scraps of fabric or something..."

[snowpiercer_npcs]

"It would be brittle," Gilliam says, frowning. "That doesn't seem ideal."

A pause, and he adds ruefully: "Of course, very little is."

[2goodarms]

"Yeah," he mutters.

They're alive. That's about it. Sometimes, Curtis isn't even sure that makes it worth it.

"Okay," he adds to Edgar, "I need that thumb. We'll find you something else. Promise."

[hate_gettin_older]

Edgar eyes him doubtfully, but doesn't protest when Curtis moves to draw his thumb away.

Instead he yawns, and rubs his eyes with one chubby (and grubby) fist.

[2goodarms]

...does that mean he's going to go back to sleep? Oh, please god say he's going to go back to sleep.

Curtis scrubs off his drool-covered hand on the side of his shirt as he eyes Edgar, then Gilliam.

Smaller than he expects: "Where's he gonna sleep?"

[snowpiercer_npcs]

"I wouldn't mind keeping him in here to sleep," Gilliam starts, and looks surprised when Tanya cuts him off.

"You already been holding him longer than you should, Gilliam. It's not good for your leg, you could start bleeding again --"

(There are no fresh stains on the ragged burlap blanket that covers Gilliam from the waist down, but a close look would show that he's already bled on it at least once.)