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Across the vast expanse of the Mojave Desert, two figures dragged their feet through the dry terrain, kicking puffs of dust that, combined with the sweat on their skin, mixed a familiar cocktail of fatigue and bad choices
“We’re fucking lost again.”
“No, they said north west, right? That’s over… There.” But instead of a path, Six pointed towards an impenetrable formation of layered stones. “Or maybe over there?”
Boone looked impassively in that new direction, only to see another massive wall that rose well over their heads. He adjusted his sunglasses and pinched the bridge of his nose, attempting to contain his frustration.
They had been through this before.
In fact, they had been through every possible variation of “lost” and “walking in circles,” and it always ended the same way: crashing against an impenetrable blockage and having to reroute to their original position.
Meanwhile, Six stared at the blockade, pleading for a secret aperture that would only appear to travellers who had overqualified snipers threatening to shoot them on the intact part of their skulls if they made them get lost once more. It was a very specific pleading, but in the Wasteland, you never know.
The wall stared down at them, impassively, with no signs of cooperating any time soon. As for Boone, he didn’t have to say anything else, so he left his silence to manage the threat, focusing instead on the unpleasant sensation of a thick drop of sweat rolling down his shoulder blades.
“We should try to climb up these rocks; at least we could have a better view.”
He didn’t feel like dignifying her comment with an answer; he just crossed his arms and glared at her. “What?! You got a better idea?!”
“We could head back and take the road I suggested…”
“There could be legionnaires setting an ambush there!”
That was it, they reached the point where anything else said just escalated things to a bigger conflict. And what if they did cross with the Legion anyway? Wasn’t it the whole point of this ridiculous alliance?
She ducked her head, defeated by her own shame and his disdain.
She could deal with his silence; she had done it every day since they started traveling together, but what really upset her was how he always found a way to remind her of how much she didn’t know, how much she hadn’t seen, how much it might have been better to stay underground.
“Look… I’m…” she tried, but he stepped past her, shoulders set, gaze forward, like he was ready to prove a point more than agreeing to the plan.
Just when she was about to take another swim into her dejection, a tall, dark, menacing figure came out of the cliff above them, dynamite already ignited in hand.
“Hope you like fireworks, bitch!” he exclaimed, arching the explosive towards them.
“Watch out!” she warned, launching herself forward and crashing them both into cover. The charge hit at the wrong angle and exploded right before landing, causing a blast not big enough to kill them but enough to toss them aside, forcing her head against the ground. A piercing pain expanded through her temples and distorted everything else around her.
“ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR FUCKING MIND?!” was the last thing she heard Boone exclaim before falling unconscious under the thick, warm blood pouring from the fresh rupture of the scar Benny left.
---
It was already dark when she jerked awake, her hand instinctively reaching to the top of her head, still caught up in whatever nightmare she was reviving.
She wasn’t bleeding anymore, and although she couldn’t properly see it, soft bandages were wrapping her head, keeping the blood in its tracks and preventing it from spilling all over her.
“Easy now, it’s barely hanging in place.”
It took a few seconds to recognise his voice, spoken so softly as he leaned over, calmly studying her expression for signs of deeper trauma.
She tried to focus on her surroundings, where they were, what had happened since the impact, but all she could do was drift in the green tint of his eyes and the soft expression lines on his forehead, sculpted by countless nights of sorrow and regret.
He gently guided her back against the mattress until she was fully lying down, his fingers covered in dark, bloody stains.
With renewed clarity, she set her gaze on the white ceiling above her, feeling the weight of his silent gaze, which seemed to pull harder than any restraint. Time froze until he spoke again.
“I… That was very stupid.” There it was again. Of course, it was stupid. Everything she did was stupid. Every single second of this trip was stupid. Every single moment of his life after her—the only one there had ever been—was stupid.
“I was trying to save you.” She muttered in a low whisper, not really expecting an answer.
“I don’t need to be saved.”
His words crossed the space between them, pulling them further apart, like a thick fog made of sharp, stained glass. She could feel it entering through her nose, cutting its way to her chest.
She shut her lids one last time, forcing them as hard as possible in a vain attempt of keeping them closed for good this time.
There was no use in protesting or doing something so childish as crying.
This was a lesson, and she was a fast learner.
She would keep quiet instead.