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Buddy never dreamt. Or at least, not of anything she considered worthwhile enough to remember. Landscapes flitting through like polaroids, of all the places she’d seen - trying to reach out to them felt impossibly slow and molasses-like, which left a bitter taste in her mouth. Though she’d heard of proper dreams before - ones where things actually happened, through the wayward whispers of men, writhing and longing in their beds, starved for touch.
Most of the time, though, when she thought of dreams she’d remember Brad screaming through the night, crying a name that seemed to follow her everywhere. Lisa, Lisa, Lisa - she felt herself grimace. Watching Brad - no, that thing clumsily tumble towards her, as if someone had pulled at it like clay, form uneven and collapsing… it was almost pitiful, a man who felled armies reduced to a blob on the ground, unaware of its surroundings and crying out a single name Buddy couldn’t recognise.
She decided that she wasn’t really missing out on all that much, regarding dreams.
And it was such that Buddy sat in front of the campfire, hand firmly gripped on her sabre and trying to fight her exhaustion. Ever since Rando had abandoned her - she found herself scowling, remembering this - nights felt longer than they’d ever been. Though the area was cleared of men, which she knew by heart, she couldn’t help feeling less… secure without his keeping watch. She promptly shook her head at the thought, rattling it out of mind. Sleep never did anyone good anyways, she reasoned with herself. All it does is get you killed, or raped.
As if her resolve to stay awake strengthened with this revelation, she propped her head on the handle of her weapon, thinking that perhaps it’d be easier to stay awake with her head up. The fire crackled through the night, its hum the only sound for miles, and Buddy watched the flame - the smoke rising into the velveteen black of the sky. The last of the wood burning to ashes.
—
Buddy awoke to the sound of humming. A person’s humming. Instantly threatened by the new presence, she rose to her feet, sabre in hand. Whipping around herself, she felt herself overtaken by hypervigilance, and opened her mouth to demand of this person, whoever it was, who they were and why they were here. As soon as she did, though, she found herself mute. Startled, she reached for her mouth. She tried again. No sound. The humming felt like it was getting closer. Much to her chagrin, panic seized her heart at this newfound loss of control, and Buddy wished she had some Joy with her to at least make it bearable. Her legs almost buckled underneath her when she spun once more to see -
“Sorry, did I scare you?”
Buddy blanched. Standing in front of her was a person, a girl, dressed in a white shirt that seemed almost too big for her, her long black hair unkempt and curly. The girl in question smiled at her, stretched too thin as if she was out of practice, and Buddy noted the necklace around her neck - how it seemed to be the only thing on her that was clean. She continued to gape wordlessly, utterly unsure of how to respond (this doesn’t make sense, I’m the last one, who is she?) which caused the girl to chuckle, walking past her to sit by the campfire, still burning through the night.
“Sit with me,” she motioned to the space across from her. In most circumstances Buddy would’ve immediately struck, this was far too suspicious and the existence of this other girl, seemingly untouched and unbothered in this depraved wasteland, didn’t sit right with her. However, this was evidently not most circumstances. She spoke as if she knew something Buddy didn’t which was infuriating, but something about the girl made her inclined to listen anyways, so reluctantly she took a seat across from the girl in white.
For a while, they sat in silence. The girl leaned her head on her hand, seemingly lost in thought, watching the embers. Buddy still found herself unable to speak, and was too aware of the unease in the air, suddenly feeling like she understood the meaning of “tension so thick you could cut it with a knife”. Luckily, this bought her some time to observe the girl across from her:
She didn’t seem like she carried any weapons with her (though, Buddy couldn’t discount the idea that perhaps she could fight barehanded) and she looked young. Was she younger? Buddy had seemed to be shorter than her, if only by a bit, and she didn’t want to entertain the idea that she could be shorter than someone younger than her. She was 13 after all, and hopefully still had some inches left to grow. Despite this, Buddy didn’t feel like letting her guard down, her shoulders strained from how stiff they were. She wanted to know most of all how the hell this stranger even got here, wasn’t she the last remaining girl in Olathe?
“You still are,” the girl in white spoke, and Buddy nearly jumped. (She cursed at herself again, what was so scary about this girl that she felt her every move would be an attack? Why was she so uneased?) Unfazed, the girl scratched at an itch on her knee. “I mean, well… I’m not here, y’know? Not really, anyway.” Buddy squinted her eyes and leaned forward without meaning to, but the girl seemed to have trailed off, much to her frustration. “This place has really gone to shit, huh,” the girl spoke again, mirthless, and Buddy almost recoiled when she saw her get up.
Something about the way she moved was surreal, as if any moment now Buddy was sure she’d disappear. The stark white of her shirt seemed to blur as she began to walk, and Buddy struggled to refocus her vision when she realised the girl now sat behind her. And there was that humming again - Buddy was sure she’d recognised the song from somewhere, it brought a looming dread in her stomach hearing it up close. The girl tapped the ground next to her, as if asking for permission, before undoing the tie holding Buddy’s hair.
She tensed at this contact, wanting to turn around and grab this girl, or anything - but right then she felt the weight of her poncho ( Brad’s poncho) sink into her skin, how unbelievably heavy it felt in this moment. Buddy gripped her knees.
“Mom taught me this,” the girl picked a lock of Buddy’s hair as she spoke. “In the tapes. Never got to meet her. I’ve always wanted to do this for someone else.” With care, the strange girl in white began to braid Buddy’s hair. Though the act was fairly innocuous, Buddy couldn’t help but feel on edge as her companion gently knotted her hair. This was something not even Brad had done for her, back when she still lived in that little hole - so this gesture, uncharted territory, was startling to her. Not to mention the ambiguity behind the girl’s motives, if there even were any.
“Y’know, I understand your pain,” the girl was deft at her work, making sure not to tug at Buddy’s hair as she braided it. “These sick men. They must’ve done awful things to you, huh? I understand. I’ve felt it too.” For no reason Buddy could actively conjure, she felt her body chill, suddenly aware of the beads of sweat forming on her forehead.
“It’s terrible. They think they can touch whoever they want just because they want to. Just because you’re the last girl alive. It isn’t fair, is it?” The girl quickened her pace, and Buddy wanted so badly to turn around, or walk away or move, but she was frozen to the spot, forced to linger.
“I fucking hate it,” she spat, and Buddy, anticipating the worst, flinched. “They all deserve to die. I hate them all. It’s sick and it’s gross, and it isn’t fucking fair. But you know that pain, and you’re strong, so listen to me, Buddy, here’s the only piece of advice that‘ll ever matter,” at this, the girl pulled on Buddy’s hair, so quickly that she fell back helpless. Wide-eyed, she gazed up above at the other, and the girl leaned right next to Buddy’s ear, in a terrible growl.
“ Never let them catch you. ”
She felt suspended in mid-air, those words ringing in her head - a horrible but sound warning more than advice. Then, as quickly as that terrible moment started, the girl pushed Buddy back up and straightened her hair. At this, she felt for the back of her head, disoriented and left with a vague sense of uprooting. The girl stood and moved away from her, back turned, and Buddy watched if she would do anything else.
“I guess that’s all you’ll need from me,” the girl said after a pause, quieter than she usually spoke. She kicked a nearby stone, which skidded a few steps, as if struggling to find the words. “Was nice to see Olathe again. Or what it became.” Buddy slowly rose to her feet, unsteady, sure that any sudden movement would cause some vicious uproar, or something else she didn’t know. This whole night had been the strangest thing that happened to her. Frankly, she was tired. This could lead anywhere, or end anywhere.
“I hope you’ll take my advice to heart,” the girl spun back around to stare at Buddy, and when she saw her eyes, the scars dotting her face - it burned into her mind. The moment of clarity she’d been waiting for had finally hit. She caught the name that had been on the tip of her tongue for so long, why it had seemed to elude her this whole night, standing right before her with her arms behind her back.
“Li -“
“Say hi to the adults for me.”
—
Buddy sat upright, eyes stinging from the sun and the grime. She struggled to catch her breath, clutching her chest as if she’d endured some tragedy too terrible to name. Parts of her poncho stuck to her cheek, and to her annoyance she’d found in her sleep that she had drooled a bit. Furiously wiping the corners of her mouth, she gazed over at the campfire, long burnt out and black with ash.
Once composed, Buddy heaved a great sigh - almost a groan - as she rubbed her eyes and got to her feet. Weird dreams must’ve been a side effect of taking Joy, she thought. It made sense, and she liked it, as opposed to any other malady of reasons why she’d dreamt, seemingly of a ghost. She stuck to that. Picking up her sabre that had fallen from her grip, Buddy gazed north to the humid Olathian sky. Steeling herself, she told herself that she still had a job to do, and names to cross off the List.