Chapter Text
Even after a whole decade basically free from the Reestablishment’s claws, there is still ruin. Humans are selfish; I've learnt that from the past five-ish years. Or was it six? Well, however long it was, humans are selfish. They are full of sickness and pain. Pain that they never tell. Pain they drown in. There are still warzones of people who side with the Reestablishment and those who don't. Families tearing each other apart, saying “The Reestablishment fed us, it kept us safe!” vs “The Reestablishment herded us like cattle into shrinking pens. They ruined us.” In the end, they're conveying the same message,
We're lost.
And I'm dying in a ditch.
… I think.
An hour prior.
“Brendan. We can't stay here. They're coming for us. Abel, pack the bags. We need to leave now.”
“We can't pack everything, Carol. We don't have space-”
“Try. Please.”
Those are my cousins. They're the last pieces of my family that I have left.
I raise my head and blink the eye crust away. I look through the window. It's dark out, stormy.
“What's going on?”
Carol tosses me an old band tee. “The watchtowers. The lights are gone. We're getting raided.”
I sit up immediately. “Do you see anything?”
“No movement, but the absence is enough to send everyone in a frenzy. People have already left.”
“How long has the evacuation been going?”
“10 minutes, people care more about their lives than their belongings. They're smart.”
Carol zips her bag. “C'mon, let's go. Now.”
I hear rustling outside the camp.
“Go!”
Soon, we're dashing through the woods barefoot, evading bullets and shells. There are others— fathers and daughters, lovers, siblings, other refugees —all running for their lives. I hear a mother cry out as her son gets pierced by a shotgun shell. I feel the gazes of crazed, desperate people firing wildly into the night. Why they chase is beyond me; all I know is that I must run. Run faster, farther.
Abel slows and turns. I look back. “Abe, what are you doing?”
“Trust me,” he says.
I continue to run.
Run.
Run and believe-
The forest is set ablaze, burning branches fall behind me. My eyes fill like dams until I realize that he's right next to me again. Then I remember. He's able to control temperature… right. How did I forget about that?
We've been running for what feels like hours. My soles are rubbed raw by stone and dirt. My whole body feels like it's burning, but I lack that sensation of fatigue most have. They falter, though. Carol trips. Abel slows.
“We should rest–”
“No, no… we… we haven't gone far enough yet. I can still see the others.”
I persist. “It's going to be alright. I can keep watch.”
“Are you sure?” Abel says.
“Yes. Please.”
CRACK!
Blood pours from my shoulder.
Carol cries out and collapses.
Fire rises, only to be smothered.
Maybe we shouldn't have stopped.
Maybe we should've kept running.
Dreaming (?)
The sky is blue. The leaves are green. The clouds are white like a sheet of paper. I lay under a tree, a tree I saw in books when I was young. Its branches sprawl wide and leaves ripple in waves. The field splays across hills like dunes.
To my left, there is a person. A person with long blond hair. A person with a crooked nose and thick framed glasses. Their skin is made of wood grain. They are familiar to me, but I can't find a name for them. Their face is obscured by the scribbles of grass and wildflowers. My thoughts have always been in prismacolor and Crayola.
“The clouds are beautiful.”
“Yeah.”
“…”
“Who are you?”
“I am #####. Your best friend.”
“That's nice… how long have you been here?”
“Time doesn't exist here. But in comparison to the Nonfiction, I'd say around 15, maybe 16 years.”
“And somehow I don't know your face?”
“You don't need my face to know me.”
“Sure.”
I can see the different colors blending together. I examine the sky. Periwinkle to an icy teal. I examine the clouds. A snowy, puffy white with silver linings. I examine the tree. I think it's oak, its branches a deep coffee-ground tone with leaves of olive and sage.
Suddenly, a pang of lead hits my shoulder. Loud cracks of lightning beckon through the sky. The world dims like curtains closing.
“Oh. I think Nonfiction wants you back.”
“Why? Why would it want me back?”
“Maybe my face is out there.”
“Maybe.”
“Should I listen?”
“No. Just hear it.”
I look at the deep crimson pouring from my— wait, no. It's venison- no, burgundy… scarlet? It's pink. Now orange. Candy apple red. Now looking up… the sky is tangerine. A bit of stay gold yellow. I place my hands on my chest. The sun is leaving. I need to chase it.
“I'm leaving now. Bye, friend.”
“Goodbye.”
Now. Nonfiction.
I jolt awake as if struck by lightning.
Overhead, I hear men running and the visceral cry of the shotgun and its victim.
I stick my hand out of the mud and feel around for leverage. I grab a ledge and heave myself up onto the edge of a ditch. I lay back down in the mud once I see beams of light searching the woods. I need Carol's first aid kit– CAROL. I look left and right. Carol is laying in the mud, her chest still. Same with Abel. No. No.
I take the first aid kit and patch up my shoulder before assessing their wounds. There's a shotgun shell in her leg. There's shrapnel in his side and hip. I choke. There's no point in saving them. They're dead.
The last of my family is dead.