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THE SUN FAILED to illuminate this side of the neighborhood – or perhaps it was the grey clouds, muffling the fiery star's best attempts, Jasper couldn't decide. Not under Carson's intentional, judgemental glare, anyway. The older man critically watched as the "leader" gazed up at the dark skies, and that judgemental stare was what urged the younger man to enter the closest house. Yet, the dreary sky was one of the most beautiful sights he'd seen in what felt like forever and it was rather comforting to know that it was the same sky those in DC could've been admiring as well.
And, he thought, it was a rather hopeful view. Knowing that no matter what happened, the sun will still shine, even if the clouds obstructed the vibrant rays. In months Spring would grace whatever city they resided in; flowers would bloom, animals will freely roam the forest, and rain would love to do nothing more than wash away every blood splatter and cluster of dust.
The world would move on from whatever plagued him and his eleven acquaintances, even if they were stuck reminiscing about it.
Though Jasper would admit, he wasn't able to reminisce about anything when standing inside of a house that was more still than anything he'd ever seen. The stained walls were barren of any decorations, the rooms only encased disorganized furniture and a stench that seemingly had no source, as much as Carson and Jasper sought it. Empty cans littered the kitchen tile, with sharp fragments of broken plates and glasses resting beside them. The refrigerator reeked of the rotting food inside it: an odor strong enough to attract all of the roaches that scurried across the clear, plastic shelves the moment Carson opened the door to the fridge.
And that, the quick movements of roaches no bigger than an inch, was the only thing defiant to the utter stillness of the abandoned home.
Jasper appeared in the kitchen rather quickly, similar to the rushed motions of the roaches Carson had seen just seconds before, and simply stood in the doorway. Carson, swinging the refrigerator door shut, stared at the younger subject and quietly awaited a list of everything he had recovered from the upper floor of the house. Only after elongated seconds did Jasper finally realize he was meant to speak: "I found a bag," he stated shortly and then quickly brought the dark bag into view. "There's nothing in it yet, but I figured it would be good for when I actually do find something. That way, I won't have to carry whatever it is, you know, in my hands."
"Yeah," Carson replied with just a hint of sarcasm lying beneath his tone, "that's how bags work."
"Well, you don't have a bag," Jasper retorted. It was meant to be more of a playful response than anything, but then Jasper laid eyes on Carson's hands. Each finger presented a different pattern of dirt and blood stains, almost like small paintings - but none of the fingers were grasping onto anything. Neither of them had found anything in the unkempt house; that realization led to Jasper's weak sigh of, "You don't have anything, do you?"
