Wonder

by Christina C Jones

  No.

  This was massive.

  A mess of concrete and steel and cables and cars. This was yet another place where mother nature had taken over again, with grass and plants and moss and vines snaking over and through everywhere it could reach. There was no mistaking the quiet beauty of the area – the sounds of civilization only present in the background, no human presence for miles.

  But still.

  All I could think about as we picked our way over the ruined bridge – the route that Bunny insisted was the clearest, and safest – all I could think about was the never-reported toll of the lives lost on the heavily populated passage. How many bodies were still here, unreachable. How many must have died slowly, trapped in their cars.

  And though I knew it was silly, maybe if any of them were undead.

  We were living post-apocalypse, after all.

  Once we were past the overgrown bridge, I pushed the ridiculousness from my mind and focused on getting to Nadiah. Bunny’s footsteps were fast, and confident, while I tested and double-checked every time I placed my weight anywhere that wasn’t the ground. She disappeared and reappeared, glancing back with an impatient frown as we picked our way through a hilly area populated with colorful, half-fallen houses. Suddenly, she stopped – so sudden I nearly ran into the back of her.

  I eased my way up onto the hill beside her, my chest clenching when I saw the fear in her eyes.

  “Bunny, what is it?” I asked, trying to bring her back into our present, less-than-desirable situation. “Do you not remember which house?”

  She blinked, shaking her head. “No, it’s not that. It’s the house right there.”

  I looked where she was pointing, down the hill, to a house tucked into the trees. The back door was open.

  “Is that how you marked it?” I asked, turning to face her. “Your signal to yourself, that this was the house?”

  Bunny looked at me, shook her head.

  “No.”

  I swallowed, hard, but didn’t outwardly react.

  Because I already knew that.

  I picked my way down the hill as quickly as I could without hurting myself – it wouldn’t do for both of us to be injured. On the patio, I froze. What would I do if I walked in here and got attacked, or found someone attacking Nadiah?

  Glancing around, my eyes fell upon a patio set that had seen better days. Bending, I wrenched off one of the rusting metal legs, brandishing it like a bat as I stepped into the house. On the way here, Bunny had run down where Nadiah was in the house, so there was no need for either of us to speak.

  Bunny had the flashlight, trailing it in front of us as we crept along, moving straight to where Nadiah was supposed to be. Part of me already knew she wouldn’t be there, but opening the closet to find the floor empty still pulled a scream of rage from deep in my belly.

  “Are you sure this is the house?” I growled at Bunny, who shrunk away from me as she nodded.

  “Yes, I’m positive. She was supposed to wait here and not leave. I don’t know why she would leave!”

  “She didn’t leave, someone took her!” I snapped, tugging a handful of braids in frustration. “We have to figure out where. And who? And we have to get her back. Okay?”

  Bunny nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, of course, Aly. But how?”

  I didn’t have any ideas.

  Just like back at my house, I had no clue what to do next. The helplessness made me sick to my stomach. With my hands propped at my hips, I paced, hoping that the movement would get some blood flow to my brain, which would lead to… something.

  I cringed when my boot landed on something crunchy.

  “Ugh,” I muttered, imagining all kinds of horrible possibilities to have crushed underfoot. I pulled out my flashlight, pointing it at the floor as I lifted my foot, one eye open, the other closed, as if that would limit the grossness of whatever I was about to see.

  It was a cheeseball.

  Of all the things to have survived the destruction and subsequent rebuilding of the world, the crunchy balls of… whatever the hell they made those things of, covered in disgusting powdered “cheese”, these things were Nadiah’s favorite. She still came after me with “cheese” coated fingers like when we were small children, threatening to spread it on my face.

  Somehow, I felt like it was talking to me.

  On pure hunch, I trailed the flashlight along the floor, going back the way we’d come in. Sure enough, there was another one – not in the direct path of the door where it was obvious, but close enough it felt like something I shouldn’t let go of.

  So I didn’t.

  Ignoring Bunny’s question of what I was doing, I kept going, chair leg in one hand, the flashlight in the other. When I spotted yet another cheese ball on the path leading around to the front of the house, I had to catch myself from yelling in triumph. Their little adventure may have been reckless and dangerous, but if nothing else, Nadiah could think outside of the box- a quality I admired in my little sister.

  She was trying to save herself.

  “Aly, I think we should just stay here,” Bunny insisted, grabbing my arm before I could follow the trail for another cheeseball. “Or you stay here in case she comes back. I know this area, and I can go look for her and report back.”

  My face curled up. “So you can end up missing too? No, I don’t think so. We go together.”

  “Maybe she got thirsty, went for water.” She glanced at her watch. “We got back fast, faster than what I told her. She’s probably going to come through that door any second.”

  I sighed as I met Bunny’s gaze. “I know you want to believe everything is just going to be okay, but we both know she didn’t leave to go get water. We know she didn’t leave willingly at all. It doesn’t make sense. So we will follow this trail, I’m maybe going to hit somebody with this chair leg, and we will get Nadiah back? Okay?”

  Bunny glanced around, then gave me the barest hint of a nod. “Okay.”

  Not that it was up to her, anyway.

  If she wanted to turn back, get home to her parents, I wouldn’t blame her. This was scary, and as confident as I hoped I sounded, I was terrified. But going home without my little sister wasn’t an option.

  I gave her an encouraging smile, then turned to find the next item on Nadiah’s improvised rescue trail. It didn’t take long to come out of the ruins, into the lawless area of the Burrows.

  Only, it didn’t look like I expected.

  From the way they preached about it, I expected trash lining the streets beside piles of dead bodies, abandoned cars blocking the roads, fires everywhere. Instead, it looked like the Mids – a normal city block, the usual graffiti, a standard amount of litter on the roads.

  The main difference was the people – there was a curfew in the Mids, and God help you if you were out past that time. Here though, there were people out – in groups, laughing and smoking, loners with gleaming guns on their hips, one or two staggering along inebriated.

  Bunny and I kept to the shadows, picking our way along the trail Nadiah had left. A deep sense of dread washed over me, yet again, as the trail moved down an alley which I hesitated to step into, not knowing what I’d find.

  “Well, well, what do we have here,” I heard, in a gravelly tone that made my skin crawl. Before I could make myself move, a first, then a second man stepped from the dark, both wearing menacing grins.

  “Bunny. Run,” I commanded, and to my relief, she took off without questioning it. Wildly, I swung that metal chair leg, forcing their attention to me instead of her, hopefully giving her enough of a head start.

  That made them angry.

  I swung more as they approached, as hard as I could, as fast as I could, knowing there was no way I could take them both on. I still wasn’t going down without a fight though. My weapon connected with flesh with a satisfying, sickening crack, sending one man howling.

  I didn’t see the other one, but I felt the blow to the back of my head.

  I went down.


  The chair leg fell from my hands, and with the consciousness I had left, I curled myself into a ball, tucking my hands over my head in an attempt at protection. My eyes were squeezed too tightly to see anything, but I heard – and felt – every bit of abuse that got hurled my way. I pulled a happy thought to the forefront of my mind – a warm memory, focusing on holding onto it until I couldn’t feel the blows anymore.

  It took a second to realize that I wasn’t that great at disassociating myself.

  I wasn’t being hit anymore.

  Distantly, I could hear arguing, and then what sounded like fighting – the violent connection of skin on skin, the splatter of blood, the crack of bones breaking.

  And then it was over.

  And everything faded to black.

  Four

  I woke up.

  The details of that weren’t important, at least not initially. When I closed my eyes in that alley, it had been with a certain level of confidence it was permanent, and it happened so fast I’d had no time for the usual near-death experience emotions.

  Or was that yet another relic of the past, relegated to the pages of books?

  In a half-destroyed world, did anybody weep and moan over the things they’d never done or seen, the people they were leaving behind? When death and decay were so normalized that you might be the only one left in your entire family, out of all the grandkids and cousins and aunts, did fading into the veil even matter?

  Apparently so.

  Because there was undeniable gladness coursing through me as I sat up on what I realized was a bed. That gladness was replaced with ear-splitting pain, coursing through my head, pouring down my back and shoulders, and left arm.

  I fell back onto the bed and the pain dissipated, some. The worst of it faded, but a dull ache remained, bringing what had happened in that alley into sharp focus.

  Telling Bunny to run.

  Trying to defend myself.

  Hitting one of those men.

  Getting hit.

  Over, and over, and over.

  Then fading to black.

  Somewhere in there, someone else had come along, someone who’d stopped the assault against me. Whether that was benevolence, I didn’t know, but I assumed that’s why I wasn’t rotting in that alley now. Somehow, I doubted those first two guys had a warm, comfortable bed in mind for me – especially after the way I was swinging that rusty chair leg.

  It couldn’t have inspired kindness.

  Instead of trying to sit up again, I stayed on my back to survey my surroundings. They were simple – no furniture except the bed, a little table beside it to hold a lamp, a bare dresser, and a straight-backed chair across the room. The walls were blank, and the window was covered in a simple shade. Still – compared to that alley, I was in the lap of luxury here.

  Now that I somewhat had my bearings, I turned my gaze on myself, to take inventory. My mother’s boots were gone from my feet, but I still had my socks, jeans, long-sleeved tee and all underwear, which was relieving. Feeling around revealed my jacket beside me on the bed, the pockets still full of everything I’d stuffed in there before I left my house.

  At least I wasn’t robbed, with everything else…

  That was a small comfort once I looked at my arm. Even in the soft lamplight, I could make out ugly purple bruising that had to be deep to show up against my red-brown skin. My back had been the larger target, so I assumed there were worse bruises there, and my head… that was still throbbing. With my right hand, I reached back to feel for any swelling. I jerked back, horrified at how wet it felt. Shakily, I pulled my hand in front of my face, expecting it to be coated in blood.

  The moisture was clear.

  “It’s water,” I muttered to myself, after smelling my hand and detecting nothing. I sat up again – slowly this time – then turned toward my pillow to see the ice pack laying there. Ice packs. I’d been lying on them for a long time, because none of them were cold anymore.

  I’ve been here too long.

  Nadiah’s face sprang to mind, and I imagined her waiting for me at the end of that alley, wondering why I hadn’t come for her. Had she heard the altercation? Had hope sprang up in her, at the thought of being rescued, only for me to have failed?

  Had those guys gotten to her?

  Shit.

  As fast as I could – which was slow – I pulled my jacket back on. Once I was sitting up, I could see my boots on the floor beside the bed, with my weapon laying beside them. I got them on, got them laced up, then drug myself up from the bed, into a standing position. Once I felt confident I could stay upright, I moved.

  Through the door of the room I’d woken up in, into a hallway lined with other doors. I kept moving until I found a staircase at the end which opened into a huge foyer. There was a rhythmic thump, coming from somewhere in the distance, but I ignored it in favor of searching the area for human presence. When I saw none, I headed down the stairs.

  The closer I got to the bottom, the louder that sound came, joined by others. Abruptly, I realized it was music – not the canned stuff that played in the salon, or the impromptu concerts that sprang up in public spaces with improvised instruments before they were disbursed.

  Music, recorded in a studio, mixed and mastered, like my grandmother talked about. It had been a casualty of all the electronics being confiscated, making it – like the heavily monitored cell phones and computers – a luxury for the rich.

  But… I thought I was in the Burrows?

  I shook my head, blinking a little as my feet hit the floor, and the music vibrated through me. Someone was speaking, but in a weird cadence that flowed along with the sound. I couldn’t tell what she was saying – a combination of the sound being muffled, and the words just not making any sense – but somehow it felt good.

  This wasn’t the time for that though.

  Where the front door should have been was closed off, so I went the other way. This time when I heard voices, they were louder – not part of the music, but a conversation happening on the other side of a cracked door. As quietly as I could, I crept up to it, relying on the music to help muffle my steps in the heavy boots.

  “…Know goddamn well the ‘Queen’ is just looking for a reason to storm my shit, and you attack her Knights over some pussy?!”

  “I don’t have to do anything special to get pussy, Ches. You know that just as well as any other motherfucker around here.”

  “You’re right – my bad. New pussy.”

  “It ain’t about that either way. They had no business over here doing anything, and damn sure not attacking anybody. You’re just gonna let that rock?”

  “I don’t have a choice now, because your wild ass didn’t wait for an answer before you went in swinging. I can’t go to her complaining about her Knights on my territory if they’re dead.”

  “They’re not dead.”

  “We both know they probably wish they were.”

  Too late, I realized the conversation was over. Before I could back away, try to hide, the door swung open. The action took me by surprise, throwing me so off balance I pitched backward and hit the floor with a hard thump.

  Adding more bruises to my collection.

  Pain pulled my face into a squint as a tall figured stepped over me, peering down. At first, I thought I was being looked on with a sinister smile, but as my vision cleared, I realized I was looking at a mask, pulled up over the woman’s mouth and nose.

  “Look at this shit,” she snapped, tugging the mask down to speak to someone out of my view. “You see? You bring your stray into my place, and she’s already sneaking around.” Her nose curled as her gaze returned. “I should kick your ass, girl.”

  “Wait!” I exclaimed, pulling up on my good arm to scoot away. “I don’t mean to be sneaky, I don’t know where I am. And I’m looking for my little sister. I don’t want any trouble.”

  A smile curled across her face now, just as sinister as the mask, and nearly as wide. “Oh honey, I know you
don’t want any trouble. Not up in here. You must be telling the truth about not knowing where you are. Or who I am.”

  Someone I had no business in front of.

  That was for sure.

  She was dressed in jade leather – pants that hung low on her hips, baring miles of golden skin between there and the halter top covering her breasts. Her lips, eyebrows, and hair – a short, sleek bob that curled around her ears – were all the same shade of seaweed green. Unconventional, sure, but striking when taken together with undeniably beautiful features.

  She was terrifying.

  “I’m sorry,” I told her, scooting back a little more, out of the way of the pointed toe of her high-heeled boots. “I didn’t mean any harm.”

  “Relax,” a male voice sounded – the other half of the conversation I’d listened in on. “Ches is just in a bad mood, don’t mind her.”

  “Ches” frowned, dragging her glare away from me to turn it on him. Once she wasn’t looking at me anymore, I felt free to adjust my sightline, turning to see the man who dared speak so casually to such a frightful woman.

  My gaze landed and stuck on deep brown skin, covered with the blue-black lines of permanent graffiti. It swathed both of his arms – powerful arms, with thick biceps – disappearing under the tight-fitting sleeves of a black tee shirt that stretched over his chest, then appearing again at his neck, stopping somewhere under his jaw. The glossy ends of two braids rested on his shoulders, their origins hidden under a black cap pulled backward on his head.

  He had kind eyes, and that made me feel a little safer.

  Just a little.

  He approached me with his hand extended, helping me up from where I was splayed on the ground. I had to tip my head back to keep my eyes on his face – I couldn’t keep my eyes off his face – even once I was back on my feet.

  “Ches hasn’t had any this week,” he said, flashing a wicked smile full of white teeth, with silver fangs decorating the bottom row. “Her regular dick is off on a diplomatic mission, so she’s on one.”

  “Maddox, you keep playing with me and I’m putting you in the cage,” Ches hissed, stepping into his face as if he didn’t have at least a foot of height and about seventy pounds of weight over her.