"I'll do whatever I have to do." His reply, while brief, spoke volumes. He wasn't the kind of guy to kill needlessly, but he was fully willing if it was necessary. There may have been children down there, but people used kids to get what they wanted. Even if they were legitimate and needed help, he wouldn't watch another family die a miserable death. The faster he could get them away from his home, the better. As he moved back down the latter and down a different trench, he was haunted by the faces of the dead, pursued by them, propelling him faster than normal, though only slightly. Why wouldn't they leave him alone? Why couldn't he forget them? Why did they have to linger in his memories, springing to the forefront every time he slept?<br/><br/><i>'Not tonight,'</i>Arc thought, determining that he would just take an extra dose of sleeping pills to shield him from the horrors of the past. All he could do was hope that, because they were pointed the same direction, Madison wouldn't notice that anything was amiss other than his more cold demeanor. Before long they came upon another ladder, this one leading to the open air. It would put them out not far away from the lookout point, and there were some hills and rocky outcroppings that would hide their approach until they wanted to be seen. Arc climbed the ladder, pausing about halfway up to massage his leg. It hadn't been bothering him much that day, but putting so much weight on it must have aggravated it again. After just a moment, he continued, poking his head out of the gap before climbing the rest of the way out. He motioned to Madison that it was clear then moved away so she could follow him, even waiting at the exit to offer her a hand up so she didn't have to roll around on the dirt.<br/><br/>Arc advanced to a large boulder and carefully peeked around the side. "Still two armed," he whispered. "Driver's probably packing. You're probably right about the kids... we'll have to be careful if this ends with shooting. Let's just hope they understand that it's important that they find another path.<br/><br/>After a brief exchange with Madison about the plan, and once the caravan had come close enough, Arc stepped slowly away from the boulder and into their line of sight. He left his gun at his side, finger off the trigger to put them at ease, but close enough that, if necessary, he'd have his index finger on the trigger before he'd sighted his first target. At first, he did not speak, but let them see him and his firearm. They stopped immediately, looking very uneasy.<br/><br/>"Language?" Arc asked. Not everyone spoke English in the Badlands.<br/><br/><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffa64d">"English,"</span>the driver reported back.<br/><br/>"What brings you out this far? Long way from town."<br/><br/><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffa64d">"On our way to Manhattan. Got lost in the sand storm. Lost some supplies. You a trader?"<br/>
</span><br/>"I can't spare anything. Move along."