by Poss, Bryant
Lo reached into her pocket as slowly as a church service and pulled out Luck. It felt good in her grip, always did, like it was the world she carried with her, always brought to mind the world that used to be. The world that had games that could be played all day for recreation, for sport, for money, and there would be no violence involved, no hatred, no malice, just a game as simple as golf in a world secure enough for it. A silly thought perhaps, but one that she liked to cling to, and Luck helped her do it. She gripped it now and smiled in the blackness. No one to see her except this thing in front of her which only saw the dark. She tossed Luck, the familiar sound of golf ball on concrete, and it bounced past the spazzo, bouncing off the wall. She tracked it to where she thought it would go.
The room was filled with little thought. The fear of the child radiated from one side with the rage that surrounded it. Anxiety emanated from the opposite side, tired and sick, the glow a dull pain. It was the rage in the middle of the room that dwarfed everything else. It glowed bright with hate and hunger—and pain. It moved toward the ball, the noise that somehow got past it. The spazzo looked for it ferociously now, leaning towards the floor to see what it was that tried to get away. There was a shift on the floor, so many skitterings of feet on dirty concrete. The spazzo stood now to see what else, a hiss escaping its lips. The momentum of the hammer met the turning of its head with a sickening crunch and slosh. The body went rigid, straight up and down like a boxer that had taken the perfect shot to the chin, then it went limp to the floor, its great mass sloshing to the concrete like a pile of shit, which is what it was covered in, shit and blood on the filthy clothes and skin, its stomach hanging out of its torn shirt and over its belt that was hanging on for dear life itself. With the adrenalin of the kill, she whirled, stifling a yell so not to attract others, and buried the hammer into the skull of the first poky she came to. The darkness was on her side now, and the goggles gave her every advantage. Grabbing the crowbar she’d skipped earlier, she swung with a ferocity of all that had come. Skulls crunched under visions of Ben’s naked body, of Cillian’s, of Melanie Cartwright from years past. Brain matter flew with the image of Alice’s cloven skull, of the children locked in cages, of the knife to the hilt in Marshal’s head. Blood soaked her with so much love and so much hate that had the child been able to see from the bars, had she been able to see through the dark, she may well have opted to stay there and starve as she would not have been able to tell the difference between the spazzo on the ground and the woman who was killing them all. When nothing could be heard but deep breathing from the middle of the room, a hand grabbed the ball, giving it a feverish kiss before being tucked back into the darkness it had become so familiar with.
Lotus took the hammer from the first poky’s skull, her patience as well as her strength growing very thin now that the adrenaline was receding, and she slid the bloodied claw between the half-cut clasp that held the door shut and one of the bars. She leaned into it with all her weight, pushing with shaking, tired arms until there was a snap, the blessed snap of the metal giving way. She sat there for a minute feeling her heart beat throughout her body then looked up at the child that had run out of tears.
“What’s your name, honey?” Lo asked, panting.
“Emily,” the child whispered.
“Well, Emily, how would you like to go with me?” The girl shook her head then said yes when she was afraid she couldn’t be seen.
“Oh, I forgot,” Lo said, remembering she was wearing night vision. “There’s another set over here. I want you to put these on. They’re better than flashlights because you can see but nothing can see you. All I want you to do is keep up, okay? I don’t think I’ve got any fight left in me.”
They left through the rear door, their new technology giving them all the advantage they needed to avoid the pokies. Lo simply kept a few yards away from the line of what used to be people, looking for the glow of the stick Cillian would be carrying. The bag of supplies she carried felt like a hundred pounds on her back, and her legs were so tired she was afraid she’d collapse at any moment. Luckily, the glow from the woods invigorated her somewhat, and she quickened pace as she made her way to it. Nothing more than a whistle got him back to her, and once they'd gotten their bearings, they made their way back through the darkness once more.
The entire trip back to the school was little more than a blur. Footsteps on grass, on leaves, on gravel, on asphalt. Heavy breathing through the nose, sometimes through the mouth, the occasional sound from the woods, from the road, from the world. She stopped and the boy stopped with her, followed by the girl. She walked, and they both moved on with her in tandem. There were some familiar sounds in the night. The hoot of an owl, the call of a coyote, the gurgling breath of a poky. They moved on without incident, and the school was reached by the very small amount of night that remained. She took them around to the book room window and immediately helped Cillian change his clothes. They all collapsed on their pallets in the shop class that had become their home, the girl curling up next to Lo. All she could see were the blood-covered rags on the floor before falling unconscious.
. . .
The pots burned high around the room, a candle under each one, some with two candles to them. The room was so much more comfortable than the rest of the world, like a womb protecting innocence, whatever that really was. So many there now. Lotus, Ben, Cillian, Devon, Slayton, Bailey, Jasmine, Lillian, Daja, and Emily. All of them there, spread out in the center of the glow of all that warmth, sleeping to the sound of the wind outside cupping against the corner of the brick building, their home. Luck had rolled into the center, removed from Lo’s pocket to make herself more comfortable, but even after that, she’d removed all but her panties and an undershirt. So comfortable was this world they had created for themselves. How it helped time slip by like so many minutes, drifting into the abstract of the force it tried to measure. Abstract from here in the new world with no way to measure an astronomical phenomenon, and even if there were, there was no opportunity to reckon it.
Emily was the youngest to roll into the daylight. So young, so eager to see the world anew outside the stifling aspect of cell bars in a basement. She looked around at all those sleeping around her, fear at first then comfort. She smiled at the sight of the sun coming through the windows, the sight of the bodies around her, mostly familiar, sleeping in comfort, the feel of the warm, feminine body wrapped over her. She looked back to see Lo’s face still sleeping, her hair matted to her cheek from sweat. She had the smell of sickness on her, but it was fading. Her skin was no longer hot as it had been in the night. She seemed as if she’d beaten the thing that tried to kill her from the inside after all. Not everyone in the room could say the same thing. With her movement, Jasmine awoke with her followed by Slayton. Pretty soon all those new to the room woke and looked at the situation they were in. They all sat there, rubbing their eyes and smiling at each other before anyone dared to speak. When the time came, unsurprisingly, it was Slayton who hastened the silence away.
“Is everybody here?” He asked, holding the rifle in his hand. It was a sight familiar to them at this point, a weapon in a quiet room, but it seemed alien here, out of place.
“We’re all here, Slate,” Emily said with a childish voice that matched her face. “These people came and got me last night. I was surrounded by monsters, and they got me. Please put the gun away.”
He hesitated a moment, looking around at all of them with no small amount of anxiety. Here was a boy man who had built up a great deal of frustration at his plight, an inordinate amount of helplessness. This situation didn’t negate the fact that he felt it, despite everyone’s safety, and despite the pleading of the innocent child in front of him.
“They brought us here, Em, but we don’t know anything about them.” Slayton held the rifle in both hands, not taking the time to consider the fact that they’d let him sleep with it. “They brought us here, true enough, but to what end? We don’t know what they have in m
ind. We don’t know if they’re any better than the ones they took us from.”
“Why would they bring us here, Slate?” It was Daja who broke the silence, her black, tightly curled hair scattered in infinite directions as she looked dead at the boy, the young man with the automatic rifle. She looked right at him with her dark green eyes that stood out against her skin, nearly the color of the night sky. “Why on earth would they bring us here, sleeping on the same floor as them, not ten feet from them, with guns, with knives, and fall asleep themselves? That’s trust, Slate. That’s what that is, and I think you know that’s right. Doesn’t that seem right? Besides, it’s Ben. Why would Ben be with anyone who would hurt us?”
“Yeah, but take a look at him,” Slayton hissed. “It’s not like he’s going to be helping anybody now.”
There was a moment of silence, followed by another. A chain of moments came together as they all looked at each other then at the ones who’d brought them here. It was then that all turned to the man, the grown man, to their friend from days gone by. Ben lay surrounded by bloodied rags, a long strip of red-stained white cloth tied around his left thigh. Another equally stained white cloth lay over his upper cheek. They all looked at him, thinking about all he had done to come back and get them. But it was Emily who looked at the woman with equal awe. So much had been sacrificed in order to get them to where they were now, surrounded by each other in the warmth of these homemade heaters, engulfed by the protection of concrete walls all around. Not another word was spoken until some member of their host group came around to tell them what to do. It was many minutes coming, but they all sat there patiently, like those seeking medical attention, people waiting for an appointment made days or weeks in advance.
Lotus smacked her lips a few times, raising her head, looking around to orient herself. She had collapsed from exhaustion sometime in the night, and she still felt tired. After a few minutes, she smiled weakly at the child that lay with her then immediately made her way over to Ben. Crawling on all fours, she grabbed the bag closest to him and rummaged through, pulling pills from separate bottles. Cradling his head in her lap, she helped him swallow the pills with water, shushing him when he tried to talk, but it was only groans escaping his pale lips. They all watched the spectacle together. After he’d settled, she took off the edge of the cloth that lay over his cheek and gently pulled it back, the congealed blood underneath pulling it to his face against her efforts. Once she finally got it off, she pursed her lips, her jaw muscles protruding with her flexing. The others leaned toward him trying to get a better look. Even Slayton found himself leaning toward the man.
The laceration went across the eye diagonally from nearly the center of his forehead to his cheek. It was difficult to tell how much damage was actually done to the eye itself. It was on everyone’s mind, but no one wanted to ask. Using a separate cloth, Lo covered the eye itself and proceeded to pour peroxide from a large brown bottle, the liquid fizzing violently into white foam as it came into contact with the blood. There was a sucking of air through teeth, and everyone looked to see Emily with pained face as if she were the one being treated. They turned their attention back to Lo.
“Can it be stitched?” Slayton asked, giving everyone a start from breaking the silence.
“It has to be,” Lo responded. “With the Demerol I think I can do it now. I wanted to try last night, but I honestly don’t remember getting to this room.”
“I can assist,” Slayton said shyly, and she looked up at him. Cillian opened piercing eyes that cut toward the boy, but he quickly closed them again.
“Excellent. The other issue is his leg. There’s no exit wound so the bullet is still in it. I’ll have to get that out too. The world as it is we have no blood to replenish him. If he loses too much he won’t recover.”
“What happened?” Lillian asked, simply stating what was on everyone’s mind.
“Well he was shot in the leg,” she said motioning at the wrap. “Other than that, I was hoping one of you could tell me. When you came in that night, all he could say was that Cillian was taken.”
There was an awkward silence now as they looked around at each other. Slayton eventually spoke up.
“I was in front of him at first. He was shot coming out of the compound. There were some men shooting from the stairs above. That has to be where he took the bullet,” he shifted to get more comfortable then glanced around. He had copper skin with matching eyes, with a pronounced nose. He was an impressive young man with a knowing look. “The eye happened on the road. He said he didn’t want to risk us in the woods, so we came back by the road. He hardly even limped. I didn’t know he’d been shot.”
“He told me to get to the rear, make sure no one got left or lost. The moon was all but gone. It was so dark. There was only noise, the sound of our feet on the road, our shoes. Some of us don’t even have shoes. Breathing otherwise. We could still smell the gas station burning. It was cold, very cold. I was worried the girls weren’t going to make it, but none of them so much as tripped. Beyond the slapping of our feet on the road, past our panting breaths there was a noise, a strange noise. It got very loud very fast, a yell almost like a woman angry. I knew it wasn’t one of the girls. There was crazy loud feet slapping the road, a gunshot. I heard Ben scream and the woman scream too.”
“There was so much going on, and it was hard to see. I heard another scream, one even louder than the first, and there were a couple more gunshots, but I can’t remember how many. I got in front of the girls, and there were two of them, two crazy ones tearing each other apart. Ben was lying on the ground. They were practically fighting on top of him. He got up. I have no idea how, but he got up, and I told the girls to get in front of us. I helped him walk as best I could, and all we could hear was the sound of those two fighting. It was terrible. I knew at any minute the winner of that fight would tear us apart next, but it never came. Maybe they killed each other.” He was sniffing now, fighting the urge to cry.
Lotus dropped her head to Ben, a tear falling to his shirt. She sniffed, wiped at her face absently with the bloodied cloth. With the motion, she felt the blood now streaked across her cheek, and she began to cry loudly, like a child who’d touched the stove. They all watched her, some turned away. Her cries echoed throughout the room waking Cillian and Devon, but neither of them moved. Devon became upset at the sight and began to cry with her, but Cillian didn’t. He sat up and watched her with empty eyes. Minutes that seemed like years dragged on as the sobs and screams turned to barking laughter. She looked around at each of them, finally holding Cillian in her gaze. With a maniacal face, tears streaming through Ben’s blood on her cheek, wild eyes glistening, she laughed into the hollowness of the room, and they all just watched. Witnessed the spectacle like children seeing their mother slip past the last handhold of reality she could cling to. Emily started to get upset, but Jasmine moved over to her and comforted her. After a few minutes, Lotus began to stop, the laugh slowly dissipating into a chuckle, and they all seemed to lighten up, sitting and waiting to see what would happen next. Using a clean cloth, she wiped at her face hard and swept her hair behind both ears. Several deep breaths later, she smiled at them with closed mouth. Cillian looked at her, unmoving.
“Okay,” she said hoarsely and cleared her throat. “Okay, I’ve had my fit. I lost it, and I’ve let it all out. It’s been in there awhile, but I promise you this.” She wiped her nose and panned around to each pair of eyes that looked at her as if the sun rose and set at her feet.
“I’m not going to do that again. You won’t see me cry again. This is our world now. This is what we have, and we are going to make it work. Slayton, let me get myself cleaned up and get some medicine in me, and we’ll start. Cillian,” she looked at him with a soft smile, love in her eyes. Slowly making her way to him, she knelt down and grabbed his cheeks in her hands, giving him a kiss on the lips. Was she a mother now? Or was she still his Lotus? “You just stay here and keep an eye on him.” She motioned to Ben a
s she said this, and he just sat there looking at her.
“The rest of you are going to make yourselves at home. I want you to all find a book.”
“Book?” Daja asked, cocking an eyebrow.
“Yes, book,” Lotus responded flatly. “We’re going to make it here, and we’re going to make ourselves better. Better in every way. And that means we are going to be self-sufficient. We’re going to grow our own food rather than rely solely on scavenging. We’re going to share responsibility and not give orders. And we’re going to read. We’re going to discuss. We’re going to keep no secrets,” again she glanced at Cillian.
“We’re going to do everything we can to keep the world productive and honest. That’s what we’re going to do. I’m not ordering you to read. I’m telling you to take advantage of it. We’re all in this together, and we want to stay in it together. There may be a military somewhere coming to get us. There may be a cure for the infected. There may be parts of the world that aren’t even infected, but we’re not going to rely on that. We’re not going to sit back and hope. We’re going to do because we can. We’re not going to rely on someone else to do for us. It’s our responsibility. It’s our time, and that should be what we always do. It has to be.”
They all got up and dressed excitedly. Even Lotus had some energy in her movements now. She slid on her pants, buttoned up the fly, slid on her boots, and walked over to Cillian, giving him a kiss on the cheek and a long hug. She whispered something in his ear, but he didn’t respond.
“Let’s go get what we need, Slayton. I’ll show you around.” Hair tucked behind her ears, tattoos showing where her skin was bare, lovely as ever despite needing a good bath and time to heal.
With the swiftness and frivolity of some schoolyard children just released for recess, they were gone. The only emotions left in the room fueled by confusion and pain. The pain carried no thought, only blackness, while the confusion swirled around like a feather in a storm. It seemed just as capable of battling the storm as well. She was gone, and she was what made him whole from losing a part of him before, but she was gone now, and he was back to not being whole again. Slowly the storm calmed, and the confusion was replaced by clarity, but only for a moment.
