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Abby clicked open a bottle of– something. She didn’t know what it was, but the tablets were round and white, with a letter engraved on the backside of them. Whatever it was, Abby hoped they would take the edge off, because that was what she really needed at the moment.
She knew she was being emotional. She knew she was being unreasonable. What reasonable person would down some random pills that they just found? Yet something deep inside her yearned for the release. She was like a sailor thrown overboard, who was about to make herself familiar to the deep, and make her home amongst the monstrous creatures in the ocean. Abby didn’t know if she wanted to ever make it out, back to the real world, somewhere which seemed more difficult to bear, at times, than the most frightening animal lurking beneath the waves.
Abby popped two pills into her mouth and sat on a creaky bed, which hadn’t been taken care of in the apocalypse. She waited for ten, thirty seconds, and when nothing happened, she took two more. She didn’t feel anything, except for being overwhelmingly tired. It made sense, because she’d just had a bad argument. Name calling and tears were exchanged on both sides, and like most people after a heated argument, she just wanted to lay her head on a pillow and immediately fall asleep, as instantly as a light being turned off. Maybe the pills were sleeping medications, and they would help her with that. She turned over the bottle in her hand and read the inscription.
Ambien.
She wouldn’t have anything but some particularly vivid dreams, then. She would have the kind of dreams you got when you were sickly, the ones where upside down became right side up, where water was replaced by fire, and in short, where all of the laws of the universe seemed to get up and take a vacation to the Bahamas, leaving you in awe of what happened without them.
Abby flopped on the bed and closed her eyes. She ran her hands across the dilapidated covers, trying to soothe herself into a sleep, but her thoughts kept her awake for a little while longer. Finally, her muscles eased up and her breathing slowed, and she was in the peaceful release of unconsciousness.
☙❧
Abby was dreaming of something akin to a warzone. Both sides were throwing bullets and yells. She wasn’t lucid dreaming, as one usually doesn’t. She hadn’t quite developed the skill. She just did what was instinctively right at the moment, and at the moment, she was killing. Killing was as instinctual to her as eating or breathing. She did it day in and day out, and of course, she did it in her dream.
She was facing up against an opponent. It was an opponent of the challenging type, who she could barely get a glimpse of. The enemy kept crouching behind boxes and crates, and at one point, a car. Abby caught a glimpse of reddish-brown hair when the enemy was moving up, trying to get to higher ground. Ellie.
Ellie had a gun. It looked like a shotgun, but Abby couldn’t figure out what make the gun was– she wasn’t paying attention, rather, trying not to get shot. Ellie kept pointing the barrel over her temporary covers, trying to get a shot at Abby.
Abby had a gun, too. In her hands, an older pistol– an m1911, from way before the apocalypse had even begun to happen. Though the gun was woven from nothing but the creativity of her imagination, it still felt solid in her hands. And she was going to use it.
Abby quickly ducked to the side, getting out from behind her cover, feigning an attack in the wide open. A risky move. Ellie got out from her cover, trying to get in a shot of her own, and Abby aimed and fired the gun she had pointed at Ellie.
Ellie fell like a marionette whose owner suddenly cut the strings. She toppled over her legs straight into the ground, clutching her shoulder. Abby closed the distance between the two of them, every footfall feeling like a mini eternity, about to end the life of the girl in front of her. She wouldn’t let her live. After all, she hated Ellie. She hated her from the bottom of her heart, an all-consuming hate, one that clouded her vision and made her see red.
She raised her gun, keeping it level with the girls head. Soon, a bullet would pierce through the brain, ending her miserable life. Knowing was was next, but her finger never pulled the trigger.
Did she hate Ellie, or was she just telling herself she hated Ellie? It was hard to hate Ellie at the moment, not when she bled so much like a real human being, when her weakness was on full display.
Abby crouched and got onto level with the dying girl. Up close, she looked even worse- she was pale, shuddering, and losing blood fast. Her hair, her shirt, everything was soaking in a puddle of blood that was getting bigger fast. She was shuddering and looking at Abby with her big brown eyes, terrified.
It almost seemed like she was begging Abby to do something.
Abby should have been glad that this unkillable monster finally met her end. She’d wanted this for a long time. And yet, something in her chest tightened, tightened, tighter and tighter, not granting her a peaceful release. Did she seriously feel bad for Ellie? She was supposed to hate Ellie. But she didn’t. Everything was going too fast, and she was enveloped in a whirl of her own thoughts, which pushed her forward. Towards Ellie. She crouched down low, over Ellie, who was lying on her back and making an ugly chortling sound. Abby was familiar with the sound, the one that the countless people she’d killed made when choking on their own blood. But her chest tightened, and she hissed, but nonetheless began to help Ellie.
Abby knelt over Ellie and pressed on the wound. She put her whole weight into it, hands clamped over the tender area between the shoulder and chest, right above her heart. Luckily, it missed her heart, just so.
Luckily? She really was going insane.
Abby continued compressing the wound, even though she wasn’t completely sure how. She was out of practice doing first aid. She thought regretfully about how easily a life was taken, and how hard it was to save it. About the frail life barely holding on in front of her.
Something sad crawled up her spine, like an icy chill, reaching her heart. It felt awful, like a dead hand had gripped her wrist and wouldn’t let go, but she wouldn’t have it any other way. Because she wanted to be sad. She wanted to be hurt, with Ellie, because god, she loved Ellie. She loved how human she was, how blood seeped through her veins. Something so ordinary about Ellie, something every other human had, and yet she loved her for it. She wanted to hold her broken body and tell her it would be alright. She tried to communicate it through her first aid, tried to express the feeling that consumed her. It didn’t work, but dammit, she was going to try.
Ellie’s head lolled to the side, and Abby put a hand gently to stabilize her head. Gently, with tenderness- with her father’s killer’s friend. Where were these confusing feelings coming from? She should fight them, fight against them for her sanity, like she fought for her life with every terrible thing in the world. But she knew that she had lost her internal battle. Cradling who was supposed to be an enemy, someone who’d just tried to kill her, she knew she had lost. Instead, she let her feelings wash over her, let them take her to do things she thought she’d never do.
“Stay with me,” she whispered hoarsely. Her voice had a wispy quality, like voices tend to in dreams, but she didn’t realize she was dreaming. Everything was too real for her, the colors and feelings exploding in her perception.
She bundled up Ellie in her arms, picking her up in a bridal carry. She adjusted for a second, making sure the position was comfortable, although she wasn’t sure if Ellie was in a position to tell her whether or not it was. It was fine- she was still going to take care of Ellie, as best as she could.
Abby was going to carry Ellie somewhere away from the hill where they had battled. The sun was beating down on them, and it would be better to take Ellie somewhere where there was shade and shelter. Somewhere soft and cool, where she could wrap Ellie up in a blanket. The thought confused her, but it made her happy. To imagine Ellie, not only alright, but being somewhere soft and warm and taken care of.
Abby carried Ellie, trying not to jostle her too much, to a building nearby. It looked like an asylum of sorts, and she found an older-style bed, and she laid Ellie in it gently. It creaked with the weight, but stayed steady. Abby was glad there were some things that could be relied on in the apocalypse, at least.
She reached for her backpack and rustled through it. It was always wise for a member of the WLF to carry a small first aid kit, and she was glad she had one now. It had often come to this, and the first aid kid had become something of an old friend from all the times she had clacked it open, patching herself up.
She got out a bottle of antiseptic. “This is going to hurt,” she said, gently.
“Mn,” Ellie replied. She was awake, at least, eyes wide and questioning.
Abby smeared a cotton swab with the antiseptic and applied it to the wound. There was no doubt about it- it must have hurt Ellie. She hissed in pain and suppressed the thrashing of her limbs.
A kind hand met hers, and their fingers interlocked. It was grounding, caring, and she found herself calming. The absurdity of her situation dawned on her. Still holding Abby’s hand, Ellie asked, “Why would you shoot me, just to take care of the wound afterwards?”
“I don’t know, Ellie.” Abby focused on placing the cotton swab away. “People change, I guess.”
“It was lucky for me you changed so fast. Are you sure you’re not planning anything with me?” asked Ellie, still paranoid and wise, even in a dream.
“If I’m being honest, seeing you on the ground… it did something to me,” said Abby. “It was like I was seeing the whole picture of you, and not just someone I had to kill. I don’t know.”
“Well, I’m glad I get to see this side of you.” Ellie leaned into Abby, her head making contact with her chest.
They stayed there for a few moments. But Abby still needed to wrap the wound, and she pulled away and reached into the first aid kit.
She wrapped the wound, her fingers brushing over the injured area over and over again, making Ellie feel the little pockets of warmth in her fingers. Ellie looked taken care of, and it was a good look. Abby wished she could pull Ellie into a hug, feel her warm hands on her back and her breath down her neck. Instead, she re-packed the first aid kit, getting it ready for its inevitable next use.
Once she was all wrapped up, a sudden sleepiness suddenly seemed to overcome Ellie. She laid down on the bed and closed her eyes. She looked sweet like this, Abby admitted to herself. Even though she hadn’t turned her back towards Abby, Ellie still felt safe enough to close her eyes and try to sleep. It was wonderful, serene, almost happy.
Abby went outside of the building and sat on a stone outside, much like a philosopher, and thought about what had just happened. Everything suddenly took on a misty quality again, like she was in the inside of a bubble, and the bubble of her dream popped.
☙❧
Abby woke up in a cold sweat. Her head pounded, and her limbs felt like they were going to fall right off their hinges. It must have been the medicine.
Nevertheless, she took two more and went back to sleep.