Adam limps through the apartment in a bustle, gathering up clothes and socks and shirts and books and a pillow and all manner of things and throwing them into a workout bag. Joanie ran around drawing the curtains. By the door planks of two-by fours and nails and a hammer sat unused, gathering dust.
"Are you sure about this? It could be nothing, this could all blow over."
He threw a shirt from a hanger directly into the bag.
"The city's crawling with people, looking for conduits, Joanie. I can't stay here, I'm putting you guys in danger every second I am."
"They don't know where we are yet."
"Emphasis on the yet, Joan."
He straps the bag over his shoulder and looks to the bed. There, lying on the bed, were two weapons: The 9mm he'd bought at the insistence of his uncle in Wyoming, and a Louisville Slugger he'd gotten as a grad present, signed by Tony Gwynn of the San Diego Padres.
He looks at each, frustrated. "I'd get more mileage out of the gun, but that leaves the two here with just a baseball bat. If I take the bat, I'll be vulnerable to anyone else with half-decent aim. I can't afford to take the risk, but I can't even imagine of leaving Joanie and Shannon with nothing but a hunk of wood to defend themselves. But, it's not likely that anyone attack here anyway, especially considering I'm the one they should be after, and I won't be here. Still... what's more important to me? My ability to save others? Or the safety of my family?"
He stares between the two, then nods as he wraps his fingers around the warm, polished wood of the Slugger. He picks it up, carries it at the opposite shoulder, and walks out of the bedroom.
"Keep away from there, Joanie! Who knows what's happening out there."
Joanie draws the curtains again, and only the lightbulbs illuminate the room. She crosses her arms and chews her lip as Adam zips up the bag that he'd left open.
"We'd only gotten that place in case it was necessary, Adam, we didn't actually think we'd need it..."
"Well, now we need it."
A car alarm starts blaring out the window, and the curious sound of glass breaking, and a fwoosh of flame. "Molotovs. They're throwing molotovs."
"This is different, and you know it. You can't fight these guys, they're half your age, they have guns, and you don't have any defenses anymore. This isn't what you signed up for, Adam, no one can ask any more of you."
"Delsin's calling everyone, Joan, and I'm not going to leave them in the lurch just because I had a life before all this and they were robbed of that."
"Adam..."
He starts slipping on his shoes.
"Joanie, a lot of people have already died. A lot more are going to. I can't just sit here and watch that happen."
She sighs, then nods, seeming to have come to a conclusion.
"Alright, then."
In the time it takes him to lace a shoe she's in the door, a leather duffel on the bed, cramming things into it. Adam watches, incredulous, through the open door.
"Joanie, what are you doing?"
"Packing." came the abrupt answer.
"Why?"
She stands up straight and zips it shut and holds it in one hand, walking over as fast as she can back to the living room.
"'I'm coming too, of course."
Adam grits his teeth. He clenches the grip of the baseball bat until his knuckles turn white.
"Joanie, this isn't what we'd agreed. We'd said that-"
"No, you said. You said that this was too dangerous for me because I didn't have your colossal fuck-up of a DNA strand, and I agreed because I'd seen what those guys could do. You said this wasn't my fight, and I agreed because I knew this was something you had to do yourself. But now, none of those things are true! You're depowered, Adam, there's no reason for me to stay behind anymore."
Adam remains tactfully silent.
"You remember Pittsburgh, Adam, the one time you were in a real riot? You know, the time you got bonked on the head and I had to ahul your ass fifteen miles to the hospital? Where would you have been without me then?"
Her voice quavers, and on the counter by the kitchen she shoves random things into the bag without any particular reason for packing them.
"I'm sick, I'm SICK of just sitting around here at home, hearing about everything on the news. I'm sick of staying up at night wondering if you're going to come home or if I'm going to get called down to the hospital no see you in a body bag. I'M SICK OF IT, ADAM.
She slams the bag on the floor, her chest heaving. Adam just sits very still, clutching the grip of the bat.
"I know, Joanie, I know. But you can't come with me."
"Adam...!"
"If you go, what'll happen to Shannon? We're not college kids anymore, Joan. We've got her to think about. She doesn't deserve to have both of her parents in the line of fire."
She sniffs, knowing he's right.
"Fine. You stay, and I'll go."
He sighs again, trying to keep his gaze on the curious mark etched into the handle.
"