Daria had been typing a new message to the press into her computer. She turned to Jane. "I'm going to kill them all."
"You won'- you won' kill th' bigwigs, though. They'll all be safe in their lil' hidey-holes, jus' like yours. So...why do it inna firs' place?"
Daria sighed. "I don't intend for there to be much of an America left for them to lead. If they're so intent on destroying the country, I may as well hurry along the process."
"NO!" Jane shouted, and whipped her hidden hand around. In it she held a broken bottle-neck, and her intent was obvious.
She had the right intentions, but she really should have prepared for her plan better than a days-long drinking binge. Daria sidestepped the first thrust, easily knocked Jane to the floor, and pinned her there with a single foot. She casually opened the drawer of the desk her computer sat on and withdrew a taser. "I'm sorry, Jane. I wish it didn't have to come to this." Jane wasn't listening, as she was screaming and crying at the same time. Daria removed her foot and touched the taser's prongs to the back of Jane's neck.
XXXX
"Why don't you just kill me?" Jane begged.
Daria had taken her down into the bunker while she was unconscious and had imprisoned her inside one of the small dorm rooms with a length of chain attached to her leg.
Daria considered the question. "Because you're me. Only your soul is more resilient, I guess. I used to think mine was too." Daria sat down on the cot. "I'm damned. I'm not stupid enough to think otherwise. And since I don't believe there are degrees of damnation, I may as well see my plan through to the end. What I'm doing is by no stretch of the imagination right or just...but at least I'm honest, and my only hope is that that will count, in the end."
Jane just glared at Daria, who eventually wilted and left the room.
XXXX
Daria had just sent the message off to the press (including an ultimatum of one week to surrender before she erased another two cities from the equation) when she heard knocking on her door. "Oh shit," she uttered, grabbing the taser and checking its battery. She glanced out the window, which overlooked the path leading to her cabin. No SWAT vans or tanks or serious-looking men talking into walkie-talkies. It didn't mean that she hadn't finally been found, though.
As she descended the stairs, the knocking came again. She gauged the knock: It didn't sound angry or forceful; it was more like a neighborly tap. She expected a middle-aged woman, red hair with greying roots, a little on the chubby side, asking for a cup of sugar. As she opened the door, she kept the taser ready, hidden just behind the curve of her hip.
"Aunt Amy?"
"If it isn't my favorite niece," the woman greeted, before lifting up a can of mace and spraying it into Daria's face.
Daria screeched and dropped the taser, bringing her hands up to claw away at the chemicals. She knocked her glasses off in the process -- they didn't shield her eyes from the spray anyway, and since they felt like they were on fire they wouldn't be of much use to her.
She staggered towards the kitchen, feeling her way around, searching for the faucet. She found it and immediately turned it on full-blast, cupping her hands and splashing water into her face. After doing this several times, her vision returned, albeit blurry as hell. The pain level had gone from napalm hot to taco sauce hot.
Daria turned to face her Aunt Amy. Well, the blur which most resembled her aunt. "How did you find me?" she asked, her voice hoarse from the scream of pain and surprise earlier.
"It took a bit of detective work," the woman admitted. "The first clue was something you told me once some time ago, after your divorce. You said something about using the settlement for your Montana Cabin Fund."
Daria nodded, and on wobbly feet (the blurriness was disorienting her) slowly approached. "Well, that narrowed it down to a few hundred thousand square miles."
"Yes, quite. So I've spent my time the past few weeks, pouring over land records in the state capital -- I could have found this place a lot sooner, but apparently land sale records are not available to the public -- until I found you -- or rather, the name you assumed."
"I see. I guess I should never have sent you my writings when I was younger."
"You got that right, 'Melody'." The older woman cocked her head to the side, evaluating her niece. "Rita and Erin were in DC. Did you know that?"
Daria suddenly lost all the strength in her legs. "No. Why?"
"Erin and Brian's divorce was back on yet again, and Brian wanted the hearing to be on home turf."
Daria wept then.
XXXX
They had moved to the living room. Daria once again had her glasses on (her vision was still a little rough, though) and she could now clearly see the gun that Amy casually aimed at her.
Daria had told her everything -- killing Todd, killing Tom, meeting Jane, even the details of constructing the bombs.
"What now?" Daria asked her aunt.
She considered the question for a long moment. "I'm pretty sure we can make a case of not guilty by reason of insanity."
Daria considered life in an institution. Medicated up to her gills, her only peers individuals just as disturbed as her...she would probably hang herself with her bedsheets in a year.
On the other hand, prison itself wouldn't be a cheery prospect. She'd probably be stuck in solitary confinement for the rest of her life, or be given the needle. She didn't have any options.
"I think I like my way better," she told her aunt, and lunged.
She took Amy by surprise; Amy only managed to pull the trigger once before Daria was on her. In landing on her, Daria kneed her in the stomach, forcing her to drop the gun and winding her. Daria wrapped her hands around her aunt's neck. "I'm sorry," she gritted through her tears. "It's easier for everybody this way, I think."
It was over in a few minutes. Daria stood and only then noticed the bloodstain spreading out around the hole in her stomach. She suddenly coughed and spat out a clot of blood.
She didn't have much time.
XXXX
Jane had just gotten comfortable when the door opened and Daria stumbled in. She had taken her shirt off and a large, red-soaked bandage had been placed onto her stomach. Her pale skin evidenced that she had lost a lot of blood; Jane didn't give her long to live.
"What happened?" Jane asked her.
"I killed both my aunts," Daria replied, sparing a moment to cry some more. "My Aunt Rita and my cousin Erin were in DC, and I just now strangled my Aunt Amy to death. I'll be joining them soon, I know."
"So...so let me free, then," Jane suggested.
Daria faced Jane. "I was planning on it, actually." She reached a shaky hand out, the key to the lock in it. Jane swiped it and freed herself. She was at the door in a second.
"Wait."
She stopped at Daria's voice.
"I don't want to die alone."
Jane stared at Daria. Daria the liar. Daria the family-killer. Daria the terrorist.
Daria the only friend she ever had.
"Okay," Jane finally said.
She helped Daria up. "Where to, amiga?"
"The dome."
Together they walked through the bunker's halls to the mess hall turned nuclear weapons factory. Jane gently let Daria sit in one of the stray chairs in the room.
Jane looked around the room, finally focusing on one of the computers. A single word was on the screen: 'INITIATED'.
She turned to Daria. "What's initiated, Daria? WHAT'S INITIATED?"
Daria looked up at her friend. "My last failsafe," she told her friend. "Every last bomb has now gone off. New York, Philadelphia, Detroit, Atlanta, Chicago, Seattle, San Francisco--"
"How many nukes did you build?" Jane interrupted.
"Fifteen. The last four are actually highly potent dirty bombs I developed, intended to render the vastness of America's farmland sterile. If I'd had the time, I would have set up a bomb to a weather balloon, have it go off in the upper atmosphere, fry every electronic device on the continent." She let out a series of coughs, after which she spat out a quantity of blood to her side.
Jane turned to leave. "Why bother?" Daria called after her. "Weren't you trying to drink yourself to death these past few days? I've shut down the safeties on the reactor. In...oh, an hour or so, it'll blow its top. It'll probably start a forest fire, and it'll spew enough radioactive ash over the state to keep people out for ten thousand years. If you stay here, it'll be quick. I can promise you that much."
Jane considered the offer. She wasn't likely to get a better one.
"Okay," she conceded. She turned and sat down with Daria for the last time in her life. "So, what do you do when you're about to die?"
Daria revealed two syringes. "Morphine," she explained. "Enough to get us so high we wouldn't notice if we were being beaten to death with our own ripped-off arms."
Jane nodded her head. She took one of the syringes, eyed it warily, then shrugged and jabbed herself in the arm. Daria did the same.
They made small talk for a while. After a few minutes, Daria started shivering. "I'm cold," she complained. If it weren't for the radioactive time bomb, the blood loss would have killed her very soon.
"Come here," Jane told her as she took off her own shirt. She embraced Daria, warming her up with her own body heat.
And they stayed that way until the end.