Clothes On Old Bones
"Never trust a survivor until you find out what they did to stay alive."
"God you're cold."
"Well, here we are still alive."
"That says so much more about you..."
He cut her off. "It. should."
They kept walking. It was grey, she missed color. She missed vibrant deep colors. It's as if the world it was too depressed to recover and give out anything bright. It was like the saturation had been turned down. The world was grey and brown and red and black. Tones in lead and crimson all smokey and bloody. Coal and midnight with tawny leather. Ravens and oil. She kept thinking back to Before "Hierarchy of needs" she thought to herself. No one cared about color or art- not when the focus is surviving. She flippantly remembered hearing her Father talk about "eating the rainbow" because you could find food so readily you could eat different colors.
She almost broke into hysterical laughter. No one here would understand that and her Father is was long dust now. Everyone who understood her was dust now. She felt herself teetering back, she often felt right on the brink of madness. She wouldn't let herself crescendo over to insanity but it was always close by. A deranged knife poised at her throat and once the skin is broken it will unzip a flood of demented crazy.
"Hey. HEY." he said sharply and roughly grabbed her arms. He shoved her aside.
"What the fu--" and then she saw it. The trap snapped shut. She wouldn't have died, right away. No, the blood loss from losing her leg or foot would have done eventually. "Damnit. You have got to pay attention. Where are you today?" his eyes were angry, dark. His voice was gravel like with frustration.
"I...I.. I'm sorry" she whispered- the waves were back- threatening to pull her under and she'd drown it in. She wouldn't stay there long, you don't last long here unless you're all together. She turned away. They couldn't linger here but she had to refocus, get herself together. "I'm not cut out for this. I was never made for this" she kept thinking. "No. No. You keep going. You are going to keep fucking going."
She felt something, at first she stiffened afraid, but it was a steady, warm hand on her shoulder. "Look, I just don't want to lose you too okay?" She turned back. "Yeah, yeah, come on."
The street was empty today and silent. The world was silent now. As a child, she could count on the hum of industry even on the most silent night. Even in the dead of darkness, a distant train, a factory, life still happened: life here was hidden. Life was scarce. Humanity's hubris left them in hovels and holes, eeking out a life removed from the promising future of her youth. The remnants of this "before time" clung like clothes to old bones. Still there, tattered and worn but just visible enough to tell you that living happened.
The air was acrid and pungent and a sound broke the sacred quiet. An ominous scraping that chilled her down to belly. The heavy lead in her hand was primed, muscles tense, her eyes searching and every sense was holding itself ready. She heard it again, that scrape-shuffle, something moving without a care for it's steps. Many predators are quiet and stalking, others are vicious enough not to care if they scare away game.
Grant was utterly still and in total control. They stood back to back circling their their steps lifting their feet and bringing them down slowly restrained and muted. They went clockwise and found it. 9 o clock and suddenly it came with an uproar, a freight train of rip-roaring power. They each got a shot off but that wasn't going to do it. Guns aside Grand pulled out two matching Karambit knives, their claw like blades black and gleaming. It was fast but Grant was faster, with his boot in it's teeth he had both blades into it's ribs and he ripped them clean while he kicked it's face away. It's chest was wrenched open. Grant went to one knee and she flew right up his back.
Her brain was turned off. Every ounce of herself was focused on one movement to the next and she moved the way they had every fight and every practice. It was a bloody dance. The steps may change but the genre was always the same. She knew every movement, the cadence was to her heart beat and she knew how to land on those striking notes. Grant had pried it open but the coup de grace was up to her. She ran right up Grant's back and launched herself forward. Her weapon not nearly as elegant looking. She brought the end of her hatchet through it's throat. It had a sharp thick and pointed skull crusher opposing it's bladed side. Using her momentum the jugular was gone. Blood was everywhere but it ceased it's heaving breaths quickly.
Just like that. A few moments at most and it was over. Horror never lasts long unless you're looking to bring suffering to the world. "A battle should be over quickly. You will tire, fast. Never prolong anything, kill and be done with it." It was one of her first lessons. She took a quick breath and grabbed her gun. They said nothing. Talking now was dangerous. Fighting is loud and death, even with hits to the lungs and throat, is nothing if not clamorous.
With a signal Grant motioned they'd tuck to next corner. Taking breaths and deep as she dared they got moving. Her heart was still pounding in her ears and blood rushing in her head. They found a safe shadow as carrion descended. "If anything thrives it's those damn birds." She whispered. He grinned in response. They stood in the relative safety and listened, poised for the next fight and fixed in case their scuffle drew the attention of more savage monstrosities. They held themselves hushed and immobile long enough for the carrion to feast on a third of the body.
"Ready?" and she nodded in response. They finished the perimeter without further incident. They made it back. Home. No matter where or when you are, finding a dwelling is still all "location location location." Their current home was the remaining skeleton of a broken warehouse building. It had a great loft and vantage points. Rusted it stood alone, a remaining lover of a bygone time waiting for it's return. They had repaired a small area to keep out the weather and stay concealed. Heirarchy of needs. She missed color but nothing could beat a safe place to lay your head. In what is often a nomadic lifestyle, home is very much where the heart is.
"You okay? There was a moment there..." he let it trail off and looked away. His shoulders hunched in a small shrug of discomfort but he waited. Grant didn't do a lot of emotional moments. He felt most of it was a waste of time and energy. He refused to invest in most people, people were fragile. Yet here he was standing with his feet planted. He turned to look her in eye with her hesitation. "Going for the chic flick moment ehh?" she laughed. "Am I going to understand your references someday?" "Consider it an education." he scoffed but then quickly became serious "Really though, you didn't look alright."
"What is alright? We're alive, right? This is all so foreign. I was a different person. Sometimes, at odd times that catches up to me. This isn't how I expected my life, in fact, this isn't how I expected anyone's life. It feels surreal. Sometimes, I'm in it an I can't believe it. Like, when I am going to wake up and realize this was just a horrible nightmare."
His brow furrowed and his eyes flashed for a brief second as confusion and hurt passed by but he recovered quickly enough to his credit. Grant could intellectually understand that she missed Before but this nightmare was the only realm he knew. While it is understandably not one anyone would choose and filled with enough bullshit to keep most people in the Colonies and still dying. Is every moment a nightmare?
"I know, I know that this is adjustment for you but you've done remarkably well." She studied him a moment in silence. Here he was giving her praise and being understanding. Where was Grant? He seemed a bit unsteady under her gaze. This man. He was tall, broad shouldered, and muscled out of necessity and thin out of reality. His sandy hair cut enough to be out of his eyes but a bit haphazardly. It would probably have looked trendy to her before. His beard coming in and he smelled like leather and oil and man. Not all parts pleasant. "I miss deodorant" she thought with a momentary inner laugh. His eyes were grey and his face angular- he was quite handsome though scruffy and mostly unwashed. His smile could break through the grime and he still had most of his teeth. While smudged and bespattered he was gentlemanly and masculine.
"Did I lose you again? Talk to me." he said a touch of impatience breaching that concern. She sighed in a mocking "put upon" way. "I haven't done remarkably well. I haven't. If you hadn't been there I'd be dead several times over. You have been one of the few part of this new life I don't hate outright. I'm grateful. When I think of the things I'd miss if I could go back, you're top of the list. I can't help but wish I could go back, take you with me and have the life I wanted. That fantasy dies quickly but never enough and never all the way. We'd be different people. You and I are only together because of this." She gestured around her. "This world. I... The life that would be... it hasn't died it's full death in my head. It clings to life in there with rancid claws and rears it's head to haunt me. When it does, when memories of Before creep it I feel like I might dip a little too deep. It will just swallow me up and I'll really be gone." The air went out of her like a defeated puff of smoke. She was finally giving in, she was finally admitting she was a broken doll. All her strength was a facade. She waited for his rejection and she prepared her mind. She knew it was time. She couldn't keep all that in any more.
He straightened and leaned on his knees. His hands folded at his lips he waited. It was her turn to be impatient. "Say something! Look, I know. You need to leave or you need me to leave. I get it okay. It's fine. Just get it over with okay!?" He eyed her over his hands. "I'm thinking. I do that sometimes before I speak." She blushed. "You are not as fragile as you think. You have made this far without falling apart. Those memories aren't going to die. You'll may sometimes get farther from the parts that hurt but then one day you'll find something you've forgotten and that will hurt too. You get ahead of yourself too quickly. Remember, stay in now. You can't go back and you can't run ahead."
She absorbed that slowly. This was a newer side of Grant. They had a few serious moments in the last year but this was more than all of those together. She went over to him and put her hand to his head. "What you doing?! Is this another reference I don't understand?" She laughed. "I'm checking your temperature, making sure you feel alright. That was clearly much too personal for you." "Har Har" he said. "Watch me get sensitive to you again!" they chuckled together and let the silence say the rest.
Thunder
"Fine" she tried to put some stubborn weight into her inner monologue "Fine" and she put more steel in it. Pushing up on her arms she sat up. She began the mediation she did every day. She put a battered leather jacket to her face and inhaled the smell of hide and gun oil and Grant. She started with his eyes, grey like clouds about to rain. She could remember the roughness of his cheek and the scruff of his hair. She focused all her energy on his voice. The baritone with gravel in it.
"It is not the end today. It is not the worst today. Today I have not forgotten." She chanted in her head. She didn't want to think about what would happen if she forgot. She didn't go there. "I stay in the now." She reminded herself. Grant was still getting her through, remembering him kept her sane and his lessons kept her alive. "They kept one of us alive."
It was amazing the way your world changes, especially after you assume is has changed all it is going to. She had been living in delicate safety for the past 3 months. The old bunker had become her sanctuary. It had taken her a while to get in. She didn't have his upper body strength but pipes lay around the surrounding area and could be used to pry. She ended up wearing out the mortar on the side of the concrete bricks and leaving the main reinforced door alone. That had been a dangerous undertaking of patience. Many things prowl and hunt and when there is no one to watch your back you can only be so focused on your work.
Upon getting in she found it untouched. Clearly designed with surviving The End in mind, finding this spot was winning the "wasteland lottery". It been built in Before and computer skills took her a while to dig out of her brain but everything still worked. She wasn't going to question the miracle, even if she should. It had been on it's own closed circuit network and was well hidden. It provided basic security and shelter. It was better than what she'd seen on the road. She never imagined she'd find a home in this desolate wasteland. She never imagined she'd find one without Grant. She never imagined a lot of things. Which isn't entirely fair, despite her penchant for day dreaming, she'd spent rather less time doing it in the latter half of her life. Still, there were times when there was nothing else to do.
Sparse but functional the living space was a small apartment, two bedroom, a kitchen, living space, and bathroom. She collected anything with color she could find. She covered a wall of all the food labels before realizing that was stupid idea. She had just gotten so excited to see something bright again. The surprise dinners hadn't been too bad. Food was never going to taste that great anyway.
Sometimes she'd pretend she was in Before and she was just really broke however she couldn't make it last. She created choke points in the halls for attacks and traps outside. Weapons at easy disposal all over make it hard to think of Before. Yet, it wasn't her physical home that made it so hard to keep her mind in that day dream. It was the hounding loneliness like a dog at the door. It made the silent walls scream and she worried sometimes that the madness would win the ever present battle for mind. It was an itch that would linger and make itself at home.
Then she heard it again. The thunder. She had thought it was just pain, just the thudding of her head waking her to the day. No. This was audible. Then she heard it again. Pound. Pound. Pound. Pound. It got faster and faster and harder and harder and it wasn't the sky calling out in response to the strike of lightning. It was hungry and pummeling.
The bunker filled with sound of alarms and she grabbed "Matilda" her favorite long range rifle, she grabbed her hand gun and ammo and ran. "Time to go to work," no matter how casual she tried to be, her heart would still hammer in her chest. She could hear the sound of metal screeching in protest as it gave way. "No."
Lolling Tongues
Yet, the Gods smile upon him today. Near his feet a bent and broken pipe sticks out. He grabbed it and it fits. He can pry the rest of the door open. The dented and crumpled metal is open enough to let him scramble through as the beasts close the distance on swift feet.
"Bless the Ladies" he whispered to himself. The beasts begin to toss themselves at the door at his back. Tendrils of thin and vile arms and heads cry and scramble to fill the space and reach him. He pulled out his knife and began hacking at everything coming through the spaces. Blood makes the floor dangerously slippery as he tries to stay upright. After a few minutes the beasts become content to feast on their own wounded. The slurping sounds of wet hunger and feeding fill the quiet and the putrid smell of blood and rotted death fill his nose. He forces himself not to wretch.
"You never get used to the smell." and the memory took him back to the first time she saw death. Her face went so pale and she managed not to vomit though likely only barely. He had told her he was proud she held her stomach. She hacked and coughed and replied "the night is still young. Save your pride for a bit."
Reality brought him back. The corridor was dark but the sliver of lights from the blazing outside let him see it was lengthy and remained dark. He knew he had to move, they wouldn't stay sated long. He started trucking through, the air was old and stale. After a few minutes, he got one of the lights from his pack. He shook it and found himself in a series of tunnels.
"Yeah. This is it. This is how I'm gonna die." He sighed. He got out some chalk from his pack and made a small mark on the wall and began to the hall on his left.
Be Patient.
She took a deep breath, got in her stance, and aimed carefully and took her first shot. With a terrific empty gasping gaping call of surprise, four heads whipped around to her. They moved like spiders on all fours. Chittering as they moved at new meat. Another breath. Another shot. Two down. Blood would spatter behind them and brains splayed out on the sand. The last two split apart and made moves to out flank her and come around and up. She wouldn't be able to get them both with the rifle and they seemed to know it. She kept calm and waited for her shot with the one to left. Aimed carefully, wanting to choke on her heart, still trying to mentally track the one on her right. They could be so fast. She squeezed off her next shot and didn't wait to see it connect. She whirled around to see the second one closing the distance to climb behind her.
Thinking quickly she reached in her belt, she felt a smooth and familiar blade. A hand span in length, one of her throwing knives. She threw, with force and confidence. There is no room for hesitation, no room to pull your punches, no room or error. With a cry she hit him in the eye and he fell back. She got a moment to load her handgun and plugged an extra few rounds into him.
She went back down the hatch to check the cameras. The proximity alarm was still going off. "Who can't I see?" She thought with some fear. Getting to her desk she could see the outer camera showing emptiness. She clicked the security screen to see a notice: "Interior breech". Those aren't the words you want to see. She brought up the site map and found it was in the western corridors, they were a system of tunnels that lead around. She got the feeling this was a military site but had been too wary to explore too far. You learn "curiosity killed the cat" and you don't have nine lives to come back. She took a risk and turned the generator to the tunnels on to bring up the lights. No use going in there blind.
"This. This shit right here Grant. If you were around I could handle the dicks outside and you could have taken the door and hey, maybe, I wouldn't be about to die going to explore this garbage alone. But Nooooo. You needed to be hero Grant. You needed to go off and die and look where we are. Was that helpful? No. Thanks a bunch mate."
You do what you have to get yourself beyond fear, mentally bitching him out kept her head calm. She could almost pretend he was still around. Almost. She closed off what she could behind and armed as much as she could grab quickly- she headed to the tunnels.
The west side wasn't a long walk. She usually kept it closed off but she couldn't risk a breech on the inner doors, they weren't reinforced the way those the outside were. She was walking, breathing slowly, and she head it. Footsteps.
"Never trust a survivor until you find out what they did to stay alive." echoed in her mind