Ruined Between the Sheets: An Anthology of Dystopian Stories that Get to the Point

by L. A. Boruff

“I… thanks.” Her blush deepened as her gaze flicked to her brother.

  Miles rolled his eyes. “Come on, let’s get this over with.” The two of them stalked off toward a pile of rubble.

  “Do you think she’s up to this?” Denver asked, watching them disappear around the ruins.

  “She has no choice,” I answered, hating myself for wondering if he was right.

  Chapter Two

  Day 733

  We’ve been walking for two days and it’s hard not to feel despondent. There’s nothing. Just charred ruins upon charred ruins. We thought we’d found a lucky break in the form of a half-standing gas station, but when Zephyr and Cav went to look around, the remainder of the building had caved in on them. Luckily, they got out before the whole place came down, but it was a close call.

  Marisol is taking things better than I thought she would. She and Miles walk close together, heads bowed, talking in hushed voices, and I know he’s carrying most of her heavier items. I haven’t said anything to Zephyr though; it’s not worth it.

  We’re hoping to reach Macoby in ten days. But it’s tougher than we expected. The heat is the worst. Today, I had to take off my jacket. Zephyr almost lost his shit when I began stripping out of the damn thing, but I felt like I couldn’t breathe, and Miles said the radiation levels were stable. My skin didn’t blister, but that’s probably thanks to the copious amounts of sunblock I’m slathered in. Tomorrow, he wants me to wear my jacket again, but I’m not sure I will. For now, I’m going to enjoy the slight reprieve it brings me.

  Anyway, I should probably go. They want to start moving again.

  K.

  On the fourth day, after a hard morning: the heat insufferable, the road hard beneath our feet; we’d stumbled across another building. Not that building accurately described the dilapidated ruins. We were about to unburden ourselves of our packs and take a short break when Marisol grabbed my arm. “Oh my god, what is that?” she whisper-shrieked, her voice dripping fear and disbelief.

  The creature hissed, a forked tongue lashing out between jagged teeth.

  “It’s a Gamma-Mut,” Zephyr said, inching in front of me and Mari. “No one make any sudden movements.”

  Tension rippled around us, making my heart hammer in my chest.

  “I can’t figure out if it’s a dog or some kind of small horse,” Denver said, as if that was the most important thing here.

  “Whatever it is; it looks hungry.” Miles pushed closer to his sister, a hunting knife in his hand.

  The mut snarled, slobber flying into the air, a bone-chilling hacking sound rattling in its chest.

  “Do we fight or run?” I asked quietly, slowly bringing my hand to my crossbow. Dad had warned us the gamma radiation might cause mutations, but hearing about it and seeing it were two very different things. Because nothing could have prepared my eyes for this.

  Nothing.

  “Kyra,” Cavendish warned, but I didn’t take my eyes off the beast, I couldn’t. Everything about it was wrong. It looked like it had been sliced and diced and pieced back together with the leftovers. Dried crusty blood stuck to his thick neck, blisters oozing sticky black-red pus. Its eyes were misaligned, one popping out of the socket. And its body; fuck, its body was swollen and distorted. It was the thing nightmares were made of, but one thing stuck out above all the others. Despite its physical appearance, the mut looked well-fed. Fat, even. Which meant it was finding something to live off.

  “It doesn’t look starving,” I added.

  “Ky, it looks ready to tear us limb from limb.”

  “I see that, jackass,” I grumbled. “But look at it, really look at it. It’s well-fed. Which means—”

  “Fuck.”

  “Yeah, fuck.” I unshouldered my crossbow and nocked an arrow, my finger poised on the trigger.

  “Kyra,” Zephyr growled. “Fucking stand down.”

  “There’s only one. We should—”

  Two more muts appeared from behind the ruins.

  “You were saying?” Denver shot me a bemused smile as he unsheathed his hunting knife, the steel glinting in the blinding sun, and suddenly, the years of survival training with our parents didn’t seem so stupid.

  Marisol’s hand shot out, grabbing mine. “Mari,” I soothed. “You need to pull yourself together okay? They can probably smell your—”

  One of the muts lunged and Zephyr readied his knife, but I was quicker; shucking out of Mari’s hold and releasing the trigger. The arrow sailed through the air, piercing the beast’s flank. A pained howl filled the air and the other muts began barking and snarling.

  “Nice shot, Ky,” Cav said. “But you might want to sink a few more—” The mut righted itself and went for Zephyr, but he rolled away, swiping his blade through the air, straight into the beast’s head. “Run,” he yelled, and Miles grabbed Marisol, the two of them taking off toward the road.

  “Ky, go!”

  But I was too busy firing arrows into the other two muts. Strong hands wrapped around me, dragging me away. “Denver, get the hell off me,” I snapped.

  “No heroics today, hot stuff.”

  Zephyr and Cavendish were fending off the last remaining mut. The thing bucked and hissed when Cav took out its legs, blood spurting everywhere.

  “Go!” he yelled, and this time, I did run. I ran until my lungs burned and my muscles hurt. When we finally reached Miles and Marisol, relief sank into every corner of me. Until Marisol screamed, the ear-splitting noise drowning out the familiar snarl of Gamma-Muts.

  “Run,” I shouted. But it was too late. The thing rushed Mari, sending her body flying backwards. Panic flashed in Miles’ eyes and then he was charging the beast, his knife drawn, his pained battle cry echoing around us.

  “MILES, WAIT...”

  He ignored my shrill plea, throwing himself onto the back of the mut and plunging his blade into its thick hide, sending blood spraying into the air.

  “Holy shit,” Denver rushed to Mari’s side, but another mut appeared. It all happened so quickly. One minute, Mari was lying unmoving on the ground; the next, her body was being ravaged by sharp teeth and monster paws.

  “MARI!”

  “Oh no you don’t.” Cavendish hooked his arm around me and spun me into his chest, burying my face there. My fists curled into his jacket as the awful sounds filled the air. Bone cracking, blood spilling. Soft tissue being torn apart; like a pack of wolves fighting over their kill.

  Bile rushed up my throat as I began to sob, pained tremors racking through me. Then Miles’ agonized moans started, and I knew he’d also fallen. Cavendish moved us until we were secreted behind the wreckage of a building. “Ssh,” he whispered, cupping the back of my head.

  But I couldn’t speak even if I tried. Mari was gone. Miles too. Our group of six had just become four.

  And part of me died right alongside them.

  “How is she?” Zephyr asked Cavendish. After he and Denver had killed the remaining Gamma-Muts, they salvaged what they could from Mari and Miles—their packs; Mari’s locket, which I strung around my neck; and Miles’ favorite knife—before digging shallow graves for what was left of them. We’d all stood there, silent and shocked as Denver said a few words. Then we’d put as much distance between us and that godforsaken gravesite as we could.

  My feet were blistered, my skin was sticky and sore, and my eyes were drier than the scorched barren wasteland we now called home. I wanted nothing more than to sit under a cool shower and wash off the events of the day. But running water was a luxury we no longer had. The guys had left me with a water decanter and some dried berries while they set about erecting our camp for the night. It wasn’t until Cavendish came to get me, that I realized they had only built one of our tents.

  “Zephyr thought it would be safer if we all stayed together tonight,” he said in response to my raised brow.

  “Fine.” I traipsed inside, pulling my jacket off my waist before kicking off my boots. “Christ, that feels good,” I sighed,
quickly chiding myself for feeling good about something so insignificant when we’d buried our friends less than three hours ago.

  “We’ll be right out here,” Denver called through the thin but sturdy material. “Get changed, do whatever you need to do, and then come eat with us.”

  Eat?

  He thought I could possibly stomach food after hearing my best friend being mauled to death by one of those things?

  Squeezing my eyes shut, I clutched Mari’s locket, desperately tried to rid myself of the memories. If we were going to make it to Subterranea, I was going to have to pull myself together. But for tonight, I would allow myself one night to grieve.

  I dug out an oversized t-shirt from my pack and stripped out of my day clothes. It felt good to feel the cooler night air against my skin, even if the air was so dense I could literally feel the grains of dust and debris scrape against my skin. The tent was made from military grade fabric, strong enough to withhold a storm and breathable enough to temper the strength of the sun’s heat.

  “Ky, you hungry?” One of the guys shouted, and I murmured, “I’m good, thanks.”

  Unrolling my sleeping bag, I opened it out to make a coverlet and buried myself underneath. It was dark now, but there was a reddish hue to the sky thanks to the fireball that burned as bright as ever.

  If Dad was here, he would have had some intelligent thing to say about nuclear fusion and helium cores, being the keen scientist he was. But I’d never been into all that stuff; more concerned with learning to hunt, and starting a fire with nothing but a few pieces of kindling and a flint. Not that we’d need a fire out here. It was hot and humid, and the inside of the tent already resembled a sauna.

  I finally shut off my busy thoughts, letting myself dream of a better time. When the world wasn’t ending, and we were just six kids living one big adventure. Waiting for a catastrophe we all hoped—and some of us believed—would never come.

  I woke with a start, sweat trickling down my back and between my breasts. Disoriented, I squinted against the murky red hue. The tent, I was in the tent. And from the way I was wedged in between two solid bodies, I knew the guys were right here with me.

  Peeking to my left, I saw Denver snoring softly, his brow creased and lips parted. I smiled to myself; he was so damn cute. More boy-next-door than Cavendish and Zephyr, who both had the ripped, macho-guy look working for them.

  When I gingerly rolled onto my side, I came face to face with Cavendish. He grinned at me, his eyes glittering in the strange light. “You’re awake.”

  “Something woke me. Is everything—”

  “It was probably just me. I had an itch.” He smirked.

  “You did?”

  I was pretty sure I could feel something digging into my leg. Something long and hard and entirely not appropriate given our friends were right here with us. His eyes hooded as if he could hear my thoughts.

  “Cav,” I warned, ignoring the butterflies fluttering wildly in my stomach.

  “What?” His voice was barely a whisper. “I can’t help it if sleeping beside you is just so...” I pressed my finger to his lips, silencing him.

  “What are you doing?” I whisper-hissed. “This is wrong.” Tears pricked the corner of my eyes as I battled with the overwhelming emotion inside me.

  His lip curved slightly as his hand slid to my finger, peeling it away so that we were almost mouth to mouth. “Living, Kyra. I’m living. Never feel guilty for that,” he breathed as his lips touched mine and Christ, if I didn’t want to crawl over his body and let him take away all my pain and grief. Just for a little while. But Denver was right next to me, and Zephyr beside him.

  One of Cavendish’s hands glided up my neck and into my hair, tilting my face back so he could deepen the kiss. His tongue swirled with mine; long, lazy licks I felt all the way down to my toes. Fuck, the guy could kiss. It made me wonder where he’d learned—we hadn’t exactly had a traditional childhood and he hadn’t been kissing me. Maybe Marisol had been lucky enough to be his kissing partner.

  The thought hit me out of left field, and I gasped against his mouth, a fresh wave of tears overpowering me.

  “Kyra?” he said softly. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

  “Mari,” I choked on the tears. “She’s gone. I can’t believe she’s gone.”

  Hands slid over my waist anchoring me against a damp chest. “Ssh, babe,” Denver’s sleepy voice washed over me. “I’ve got you. We’ve got you.”

  Cavendish’s eyes flashed at his friend’s words, but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he pressed a single kiss to my forehead and mouthed, “We should probably get some sleep.”

  But between his hot kisses and Denver’s warm hands searing my skin through my t-shirt, I doubted sleep would come anytime soon.

  If at all.

  Chapter Three

  Day 738

  Mari and Miles are gone. It’s been three days since they were… killed. Every morning is quiet without them, but slowly we are finding a new routine between the four of us. We walk as much as we can in the morning and again in the later afternoon, taking a break at midday when the fireball’s heat seems at its peak. Although, if you ask me, it has one heat setting—motherfucking hot.

  We’ve managed to walk thirty-five miles so far, but I can already feel it taking its toll. I don’t complain because what’s the point? The only good thing to come out of losing Mari and Miles is the fact we no longer have to ration between six of us.

  Does that make me a callous bitch?

  Denver says it doesn’t. Says it just makes me human, but I don’t know. Out here, it feels like one could easily lose their humanity. It’s why, every night when we retreat to our tent, I take comfort in the arms of whoever offers it. Denver. Cavendish. Zephyr. It doesn’t matter. Their touch reminds me I’m alive, that I’m still here, still fighting. Cavendish hasn’t tried to kiss me again, although I wish he would. When his lips touched mine, it awoke something inside me. A deep ache I’m finding difficult to ignore.

  It’s ironic that I spent two years cooped up with the three of them and managed to keep my sexual desires at bay, but now I find myself counting down the hours until I can fall into their awaiting arms, desperate for their comfort, their touch.

  But in our bleak circumstances, I’ll take it.

  I’ll take whatever I can get.

  I’ll write again soon

  K.

  Forty-five miles.

  We still had forty-five miles left to go. I tried not to get hung up on how far we had left to travel, preferring to focus on how far we had already made it.

  Thirty-five miles.

  Somewhere around mile twenty, the wasteland had become even more desolate. Zephyr concluded it was because we were moving into mountain territory. I didn’t care. As long as the mountains remained firmly in my sights and we ran into no more Gamma-Muts, I could deal.

  “Here, you should drink something.” Denver handed me a decanter, his eyes cutting me with a look that told me he wasn’t going to take no for an answer.

  “Fine. Just a sip.”

  No one said it, but we were running out of supplies. The intense heat from the fireball, and the dusty air, meant we needed more water than we’d anticipated. If we didn’t find more soon, we wouldn’t have to worry about the next forty miles.

  We’d be dead.

  I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand before returning it to him. “Thanks.”

  “You need to slow down, Ky,” he said, his eyes soft but assessing.

  “We don’t have time to slow down.” Not now we knew what kind of things lived in the Scorchlands—the nickname I’d come up with for our new surroundings.

  “I get it, I do.” Understanding simmered in his eyes. “I miss them too, but getting ourselves killed won’t—”

  “I have to pee,” I said, brushing past him to duck behind some ruins. I didn’t, not really, but I couldn’t stand the way he saw right through me.

  Leaning back against th
e rubble, I looked out over the wasteland. So much destruction. It was hard to remember what it had once been like. If Zephyr was right, this was the Cheyenne East Pass. It would lead us right around Cheyenne Mountain to Macoby. I imagined once, the popular route had been littered with gas stations and small shopping malls, and the odd motel. Now it was nothing.

  My heart pinched with grief, but I stuffed it down. Subterranea was out there, somewhere beyond the mountains. It just seemed like such a long way to go.

  Something caught my attention; a rustle, and my head snapped over to the left, eyes narrowing on the location where the sound had come from.

  “What the...?” I crept closer, hand poised on my bow, as the Gamma-Mut came into view. It was different to the ones before: smaller; a cat or a giant rat maybe? A long-forked tail swished, its skin scarred and uneven, fur singed and patchy.

  It was distracted; too busy trying to scavenge whatever scrap of food it had found underneath the fallen ruins. I should have walked away, should have tiptoed back to the guys and told them to run. But before I knew it, my bow was in my hand, arrow nocked, and I was aiming right at the mutated animal.

  “Ky,” Zephyr’s low growl startled me, and I glanced back to find him glowering at me. “Back the fuck up, now.” He mouthed.

  “I can make the shot,” I said defiantly, inching closer. The mut was still unaware; too consumed with whatever it wanted to retrieve.

  “There could be more.” His voice barely penetrated my concentration. Anger and grief rippled up my spine, taking over my motor functions. I had to do this, for Mari and Miles. These... these things couldn’t be allowed to live. They were wrong, unnatural. And I’d rid this place of every single one of them myself if I had to.

  I raised my bow and closed one eye to line up the shot.

  “Kyra!” Zephyr whisper-hissed again. But it was too late, I was doing this.