ã€ŠLooking Down From Olympusã€‹


 Chapter 1 - The Start of the End of the World

    ¡°Hey, dipshit, wake up.¡±

    Your eyes flicker open and immediately slam back shut as a tall man shines a flashlight right in your face. He flicks you in the ear and insults you again, telling you to move your sorry ass before he moves it for you. You oblige, of course, and scooch your carcass to the right. The man laughs through his nose but says nothing more.

    His wide gloved hands grasp a weird-shaped mass of blankets and you watch on, intrigued, as he pulls back some sheets and reveals a slack human face. Is that a dead body?

    The dark floor is cool against your cheek as you soak it all in. A strange scent you vaguely recognize as mildew wafts up your nose and circles your brain, making you dizzy. Your corpse feels inexplicably wet, like the dampness sunk into your bones and nested there for eternity, finding its new home in the vessel that once contained you.

    You hoist your body up with what little strength you have and somehow manage to prop yourself up against a wall. The man seems to tire of waiting for the newly uncovered mummy to awaken, if his agitation is anything to go by.

    ¡°Wake up, nimrod,¡± He huffs impatiently as he points his flashlight at the vacant countenance, poking their cheek with a gloved finger. The person in the blanket burrito doesn¡¯t respond. The man rolls his eyes and calls to his partner, ¡°Hey, Dave, we got another Dazed and Confused one here.¡±

    The man you figure is Dave shakes his head, ¡°That wasn¡¯t funny the first time you said it an it ain¡¯t funny now, Connor. Save your shitty jokes for when we¡¯re not savin¡¯ peoples¡¯ lives.¡± So they¡¯re saving lives, you guess, but you¡¯re not really sure what from.

    Connor laughs good-naturedly, hoisting the burrito over his shoulder and carrying it across the room to Dave, calling him a jerk as he does so. Dave ignores his partner and gestures to the floor. Connor gingerly rests the person on the ground and trudges back over to the haphazard pile of blanket burritos, reaching for another one and repeating the pattern of insulting, blinding with a flashlight, and then complaining.

    You turn your attention to Dave, who seems like he knows what he¡¯s doing.

    He has a stethoscope draped over his neck but you don¡¯t notice it until he uses it on the silent person resting on the floor. Is he a doctor? Maybe. You can¡¯t really tell. You don¡¯t seem to understand a whole lot. But hey, why else would he have a stethoscope?

    The man you assume is a doctor continues to poke and prod the silent person, eventually deciding to blow air into the poor bastard¡¯s ear. Their eyes shoot open and they scream so loud you feel it in your bones, reverberating through your spine and fingers like a tuning fork. Dave consoles them, speaking softly yet sternly, hands resting lightly on their shoulders. You can¡¯t hear what he says but the rumbles from his chest fill you with peace.

    His indistinguishable words are delicate and melodious, humming between your ears as you smile like a goof. Warm energy cascades down your body like a waterfall, and you feel it clean the gunk out of your every nook and cranny. You are reborn, here in this dark place, surrounded by ghosts and hazy memories.

    The heat seeps down your legs and you relax even more, slumping over and making eye contact with Connor. He grimaces.

    ¡°This one peed itself, Dave. I¡¯m sick of that shit.¡±

    ¡®What peed itself?¡¯ You wonder absentmindedly. You have better things to worry about, like where you are and why you feel like you¡¯re awake for the first time in your entire life. But then you realize what peed itself.

    It was your stupid ass.

    ¡°I-I¡¯m sorry¡­..¡± You mumble quietly in Connor¡¯s general direction, hoping he heard you but too nervous to say more. He raises an eyebrow at you, not impressed, but then sighs and points to a mountain range of mismatched clothes piles.

    ¡°Go change.¡±

    You nod meekly and try to stand but to no avail. Your knees wobble and buckle under your weight, and your spine apparently has very little interest in supporting your carcass. You slump against the wall and breathe deeply. You try again and again until you can stand up straight, legs barely stable beneath you.

    You hobble over to the pile and search through the seemingly endless mountain for something your size. Everything is too small and you get increasingly frustrated. Eventually, a large gray sweater catches your eye and you snatch it up with gusto.

    By the time you find a suitable pair of shorts and wrestle them onto your wide frame, the burrito person hobbles over and kneels down next to you to ruffle through the mounds of cloth. They look at your outfit and nod to themself, ready to find something similar in the vast stacks, you guess.

    You gather your soiled clothes in your hands and look at Dave questioningly, who points to another pile a ways away from the stacks you just looked through. You toss the dirty laundry where you were told to and wander back over to Dave¡¯s side, eyeing Connor warily as he screams at another burrito person.

    Dave sighs and shakes his head, then looks at you with a small smile on his face, and you feel that sense of calm wash over you once again. He pats the ground next to him and you ease yourself onto the cold concrete, subconsciously leaning into Dave. He takes mercy on you and says nothing as your body sags against his shoulder.

    ¡°Thank you,¡± You murmur shyly. You don¡¯t know if he heard you.

    ¡°So, what¡¯s your name?¡± He asks you offhandedly, as if it doesn¡¯t really matter. You shrug and furrow your brows, wracking your brain, but you can¡¯t remember. You tell him so. He chuckles, ¡°Sounds about right. No one ever remembers their old name.¡±

    Connor pipes in from across the room, ¡°Well, we gotta call you something, so just pick a name.¡±

    You frown at him and he, for some reason, grins at you. His right front tooth is chipped.

    The now clothed burrito person makes their way over to you and Dave, hesitantly plopping down beside you. You stare at them inquisitively and they grunt at you. Their outfit is similar to yours, a simple shirt and shorts ensemble, but for some reason you feel it looks better on them.

    Dave hums softly and clasps his hands together in his lap. ¡°Well,¡± He probes, ¡°Any ideas?¡± You shake your head and say no. He nods thoughtfully. ¡°Alright. How ¡®bout we call you Flash?¡±

    You tilt your head and squint at him, confused as to why he thinks that¡¯s a good name for you. You can¡¯t remember your own name but you sure can remember the DC hero, with garish red spandex and that awful headpiece. You¡¯re almost insulted. He shrugs, ¡°That¡¯s the fastest I¡¯ve ever seen anybody be able to talk. Usually takes ¡®em a few hours.¡±

    ¡°Oh¡­ um¡­.¡± You pause, thinking. Maybe that¡¯s not so bad, then. You¡¯re actually kind of pleased. ¡°Okay. Thank you¡­¡± You speak softly, but soundly, and that makes him smile.

    Jealous, the other recently woken person whines loudly but no words form. They grow frustrated and grunt, but Dave waves a placating hand at them. ¡°As I said, it usually takes a while to be able to talk. If I¡¯m bein¡¯ honest, you¡¯re lucky you could dress yourself. Y¡¯all haven¡¯t been in here as long as some of the others so the muscular atrophy ain¡¯t as bad as it coulda been.¡± You nod, as you don¡¯t know enough about medicine to dispute his claims, and wiggle your fingers.

    Your fine motor skills are not yet up to par.

    Your vocal chords, however, are in working order, and you want to make use of them. ¡°Dave¡­ What-?¡± You want to ask what happened, where you are, what year it is, but it all gets caught in your throat. A choking sound escapes your windpipe and the unnamed person eyes you warily.

    Connor staggers over, seemingly exhausted, and gingerly sits down across from Dave. Sweat makes his dark skin shine like onyx as his wide chest heaves, drawing lungfuls of stale air into his body. ¡°What happened?¡± He guesses, and you nod. ¡°Welcome to the end of the world.¡±

    You raise an eyebrow. You don¡¯t trust this man and his jokes. Your eyes meet Dave¡¯s, and to your surprise, he nods.

    ¡°It ain¡¯t a joke, Flash,¡± The doctor drawls softly, and you wonder how he knew what you were thinking, ¡°Welcome to the apocalypse a la nuclear annihilation.¡±

    The words slowly tumble around in your head as you try to process. What? What year is it? Where are you? You desperately sieve through your brain, searching every corner for memories of your life before Connor called you a dipshit. You come up with nothing but impressions and this frustrates you. Who did you used to be? Did you have a family? Were you married? How old are you, anyway? Question after question raises itself and is left unanswered.

    All at once, everything is different.If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    You frown but focus on the next most pertinent inquiry, ¡°Where are we?¡±

    Dave grimaces and Connor answers you, ¡°We are currently in an underground bunker in what used to be rural North Carolina.¡±

    ¡°Used to be?¡±

    ¡°Yeahp, World War III kinda destroyed all major powers. Nothing but, like, fucking clans and shit, probably.¡±

    A heavy sigh leaves Dave¡¯s round lips, ¡°Well. We¡¯re not even sure about there bein¡¯ clans. The only people we¡¯ve seen are those we¡¯ve woken up ourselves. I sure hope there are more people out there.¡±

    This news makes your throat go dry and your pulse race, ¡°You mean this could be it? A few idiots in the mountains of North Carolina?¡±

    Connor nods but won¡¯t meet your eyes.

    You grimace at him and don¡¯t continue the conversation, not too keen on dwelling on that thought, changing the subject with, ¡°Okay, so what year is it? How did the War start? And how the hell did I end up in an underground bunker in North Carolina? I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve ever even been here before.¡±

    Dave and Connor exchange glances, silently debating who gets to provide all the exposition. The unnamed person shifts and you glance at them. They had apparently been listening, and seem just as curious to have those questions answered. They nudge you and point at the two men before making a ¡°who the hell are they?¡± gesture, silently begging you to ask, and you acquiesce. ¡°Also, who the hell are you two?¡±

    The responsibility of question answering falls onto Dave as Connor quickly rises and stalks back over to the pile of wrapped up bodies. Dave seems annoyed but ultimately unsurprised by the other man¡¯s swift departure, furrowing his eyebrows for a brief moment. A wry look crosses his face and he peers at you and your silent friend almost benevolently, smiling softly before leaning over to crack his back.

    ¡°There¡¯s not really much to tell but here we go,¡± He begins, ¡°First off, I¡¯m David Avilla, and that asshole over there is Connor Hussain. I¡¯m a physician, or I guess I used to be. He¡¯s a¡ªwhat¡¯s it called¡ªa mechanic, and he used to teach autoshop at some high school, ain¡¯t that right, Connor?¡± Connor chimes in with a ¡®yeahp¡¯.

    ¡°One of the powers involved in the war started usin¡¯ a nasty new weapon¡ªa gas that can put thousands of people out of commission in a matter of seconds. I think it might¡¯ve been intended for cryogenesis or something because people who don¡¯t die are put into a strange sort of stasis. It was likely weaponized because it causes neuron damage, and kills those who are left asleep for too long. Those who do wake up usually have trouble controllin¡¯ their bodies and varyin¡¯ amounts of amnesia. Connor and I, well¡­ we don¡¯t remember much of the War. I can¡¯t even tell y¡¯all who was fightin¡¯.

    ¡°Truth is, I don¡¯t know how the War started or how y¡¯all ended up in North Carolina. We only know it¡¯s North Carolina because there are a few remaining trail signs. All we know for sure is that someone weaponized that gas and used it on us. Seems like people built shelters like this to protect themselves, but they couldn¡¯t keep the gas out, so every shelter we¡¯ve seen in the year or so we¡¯ve been awake has been filled with people affected by the gas. Most of ¡®em were dead, but we managed to rouse a few of ¡®em.

    ¡°All the weird shit you¡¯ve been feelin¡¯ since you woke up is because of that damn gas.¡±

    How much trouble you had walking and controlling your bowels suddenly makes a lot more sense. You¡¯re still embarrassed, of course, but considerably less so.

    ¡°Your brain needs to get the hang of usin¡¯ certain neural pathways again, so that¡¯s why it takes time for people to get their coordination back. You¡¯ve probably been in stasis for over a year so it¡¯s a great sign that you¡¯re able to move, speak, and process as well are you are.¡±

    Dave pauses, furrowing his brows for a moment, before saying, ¡°We don¡¯t know what year it is, because we don¡¯t know how long we were asleep, so we¡¯ve just been calling it Year 2. Connor and I both woke up the spring before last, so we made that Year 1. It¡¯s the end of summer now, so. Does that answer all your questions?¡±

    You blink.

    ¡°I guess so,¡± You tell him. ¡°Where are the others you woke up?¡±

    Dave smiles affectionately, ¡°We¡¯ve got a nice little settlement a few days¡¯ hike away from here. Connor and I sometimes go out on these trips to see if we can find more people. We left one person to watch camp but everyone else went out on different trips, like huntin¡¯ and shit, so they might not be there when we get back.¡±

    That sounds reasonable, you think. You nod at the doctor, whose eyes twinkle back at you, like he knows something that you don¡¯t. Honestly, you¡¯re sure he knows a lot that you don¡¯t.

    The unnamed person shifts beside you, their dark skin looking pale. Their body slumps sideways and their shoulder collides with the hard ground, thud echoing around the bunker and startling Connor, who curses under his breath. The doctor releases a heavy sigh. You help him maneuver the unconscious body until they¡¯re supine, retreating to give the man room for his medical examination. Dave starts poking and prodding them before chuckling to himself and settling back down on the ground. You eye him curiously but say nothing.

    ¡°They just fainted.¡±

    Ah. That makes sense, you suppose. Information overload will do that to a person.

    Unbeknownst to you, they actually fainted because they have low blood pressure, not because of ¡®information overload,¡¯ you fucking doofus.

    You nestle yourself next to Dave once again and get to thinking. What will you do, with no past and no future? What is there to do, in this new world birthed from fire and revolution? What will the gods think, sneering down at you from the heights of Olympus?

    As far as you know, you don¡¯t really have any skills or passions that you can actively recall. Who knows what you did before the war. Hopefully, you can be helpful to the men that saved you, but you¡¯re not sure how to pass the time until the inevitable heat death of the universe. You could read books or something, you guess.

    Wait. Do books even exist anymore? What lies beyond the confines of this bunker?

    You watch as Connor continues to shake the people wrapped in blankets, but as it turns out only one of the three is still alive. Once roused, they go through the process of peeing themself, getting shamed by Connor, and then meekly dressing with rags from the pile. They hobble over to the doctor, who gives them a once over, and then plop down onto the cool floor. They breathe deeply and keep their eyes closed, rubbing insistently at their fingers. Connor comes over and sprawls onto the ground beside Dave, who smiles softly at the other man.

    Connor fiddles with his gray mechanic¡¯s gloves and Dave makes a ¡°tsk¡± sound. Connor¡¯s hands fall still.

    The original unnamed person suddenly jerks up and you jump, startled. They¡¯re trying to speak but their words are mangled and congealed, clogging their throat and oozing out their mouth. They frown. They try again to no avail, and give up with a huff, standing up and wobbling around to stretch their legs.

    Dave and Connor speak gently, heads tilted together, and you can¡¯t quite make out what they¡¯re saying. You wonder what will come next, but they do not address you, and you look away.

    Glancing around you notice the second unnamed person eyeing you with what you can only describe as childlike curiosity. You smile at them and they blush.

    The overabundance of unnamed persons starts to annoy you as you try to describe them clearly in your head. Nameless person 1 and nameless person 2 is in no way convenient. There has to be a better way.

    ¡°Hey,¡± You start, and the two men peer at you inquisitively, ¡°Don¡¯t you think we should name these two?¡± Dave grins at you and nods.

    You address the original unnamed person, who has now wandered back to where the rest of the group is seated. ¡°Do you remember your name?¡± They shake their head. Of course they don¡¯t. ¡°Alright. Why don¡¯t we stick with the superhero theme and call you Captain, like Captain America?¡± They pause and think for a second.

    They nod.

    Sweet.

    You turn your attention to the other person to be named, and they eye you warily, distrustful of your name choosing abilities. You chuckle to yourself and start brainstorming. There are a few that stick out in your mind but none that ensnare your attention completely, none of them being quite good enough for this person you just met and know nothing about. Silence falls over the group and crawls down your throat.

    Every suggestion of yours is shot down with a resolute head shake.

    ¡°Hmn. I think you¡¯re going the wrong direction here, Flash. Maybe a girl¡¯s name is in order?¡± Dave suggests, and you raise a doubtful eyebrow at him. Who wouldn¡¯t want a gender-neutral name like you have?

    The last unnamed person is grinning and nodding, though, so you guess Dave was right. You still have trouble coming up with a feminine name, so Connor takes pity on you and suggests ¡®Harley,¡¯ like Harley Quinn. You raise your eyebrow at the soon-to-be-named person, whose eyes light up. They nod enthusiastically and Dave laughs.

    ¡°Harley it is,¡± He says jovially as he stands and stretches his back, ¡°And now that that¡¯s out of the way, we should probably talk about what our next step is.¡±

    Everyone nods in agreement but no one speaks. Dave sighs loudly and stares pointedly at Connor, silently urging him to take the reins of decision making. The darker man is displeased but acquiesces nonetheless.

    ¡°Including you three we¡¯ve gathered ten people, so there¡¯s twelve of us total. We have that small settlement a few days away from here, it¡¯s not much but it¡¯s ours. We haven¡¯t seen any other people but our group since Dave and I woke up, but I¡¯m sure there are others out there, somewhere. You three are more than welcome to come live with us, we could always use the extra hands.¡± Connor clears his throat. ¡°You might as well.¡±

    Considering it, you suppose you might as well. What else are you gonna do, live alone in the mountains like some kind of hermit? You¡¯d probably starve.

    ¡°Okay,¡± You say simply, ¡°I got nothing better to do.¡±

    Dave raises an eyebrow and chuckles under his breath as Connor cackles, the two of them sharing an intriguing look. You¡¯re not sure what was so funny but you¡¯re strangely glad you made them laugh.

    Both men stand and begin collecting what you assume are their belongings. They tell the three of you to grab some changes of clothes for them to pack for the journey, which is something you never would¡¯ve thought of so you¡¯re grateful.

    Dave cradles a doctor¡¯s bag like a newborn and Connor begins piling destroyed mechanical objects onto a tattered blanket, eventually scooping up the package and waddling through the doorway in the north wall. Both men have almost comically oversized hiking backpacks on, which makes you giggle to yourself.

    You stand as well and stretch your back. A sharp throb of pain radiates up your spine and toward your fingers and you clutch Harley¡¯s shoulder to steady yourself. She peers at you inquisitively but remains mercifully silent, a small smile gracing her lips. You already like her.

    The doctor chuckles again, ¡°C¡¯mon, Flash, be careful. The muscular atrophy ain¡¯t awful but your muscles have still deteriorated significantly. You¡¯re far from peak condition.¡± You, of course, forgot about all that and stretched like you would¡¯ve any other day. But today isn¡¯t any other day. Today is the start of the end of the world.

    You grin sheepishly at him and he waves you off, turning to follow the other man through the doorway. Captain follows Dave closely, arms full of clothes, narrowing their eyes at you as they pass. You raise an eyebrow but ultimately don¡¯t think much of it. You turn to Harley and offer her a hand, which she accepts and allows you to pull her to her feet.

    Good news, you think to yourself, your arm muscles are still doing okay.

    They hurt as soon as Harley lets go but you shake it off and locate the clothes piles, grabbing anything that looks large enough for you. Harley does the same.

    When you¡¯re done you follow Harley into the long hallway beyond the door. You stroll leisurely behind her as she moves forward through the dark hall until you can see sunlight, something you feared you¡¯d never see again. Harley gasps softly and speeds up, thick legs moving faster to reach the warm touch of the sun. You quicken your pace as well, just as eager to embrace the sun¡¯s loving rays, and step onto the soft grass with a sigh of relief.

 Chapter 2 - The Other Side

    Squinting in Apollo¡¯s splendor, you can just make out Dave and Connor speaking to one another under a large tree, with Captain hovering restlessly nearby.

    The grass between your toes tickles but you ignore it, busy reveling in the joys of being alive. You close your eyes and inhale deeply, head spinning with the scent of earth. Wind lazily caresses your face and sunlight warms you in ways you didn¡¯t think were possible, as if you had never seen the sun before, as if you were just now born into this world.

    Next to you, Harley appears to be doing very much the same thing, standing with her head titled back and eyes screwed shut. She looks way more at peace than she has any right to, but you can¡¯t hold it against her.

    Dave beckons and you saunter toward him. He explains that the camp is a few days¡¯ hike north, and that it¡¯s more than okay to ask for breaks if your legs can¡¯t handle the effort. You nod, of course, but you know you¡¯d rather die than ask everybody to stop for you. You¡¯re just¡­ not that kind of bitch. He glances down at your feet and chides, ¡°Why didn¡¯t you grab shoes?¡±

    Confused, you stare down at your feet, ¡°There were shoes?¡±

    The doctor laughs and points down to his grey hiking boots, then to Captain¡¯s brown moccasins, then to Harley¡¯s worn out Nikes, then to Connor¡¯s bare feet. ¡°Connor isn¡¯t wearing shoes either,¡± You point out somewhat dumbly.

    Connor laughs loudly, ¡°Shoes are feet prisons!¡± That¡¯s honestly kind of gross.

    Dave ignores him and tells you there was a pile of shoes in the bunker, dummy. ¡°Go grab a pair, we¡¯ll put everyone¡¯s clothes in our backpacks in the meantime.¡±

    You blush and rush off back into the shelter, embarrassed beyond belief. It takes you a good few seconds to find the mountain of shoes but once you do, you waste no time and immediately start excavating. You eventually pull out a pair of stained white Adidas and shove them on your feet.

    When you emerge, you¡¯re relieved to see that the others are chatting amongst themselves, and not looking at/judging you for being a fool. Normally you¡¯re pretty observant, too, but you guess after waking up from who knows how long of what is essentially cryosleep, you get a free pass.

    Captain is the one to notice you first, and they nudge Dave to get his attention. The doctor glances at you and grins, ¡°Hey, Flash! Ready to start hikin¡¯?¡± Your cheeks heat, you nod, and you follow after the group like a rejected puppy.

    Silently, you complain about the heat and the thickness of the air. The sun is high in the sky, nearing the apex of her journey with Apollo, so you figure it¡¯s about midday. You¡¯re no expert but you figure it¡¯s as good a guess as any. An odd silence descends, filtering through the leaves and pooling on the grass. It¡¯s almost oppressive as it weighs on your chest. You breathe deeply, with more difficulty than you should have at this altitude, and you furrow your brows.

    Without birdsong and trickling water, you feel as if you¡¯re in a waking dream. You float.

    No one breaks the silence for some time. The longer it remains intact, the stronger it becomes, pushing down on your skull. It glues your feet to the ground.

    Harley lags behind the group, slowing her pace to inspect any interesting plants that catch her eye. She picks up leaves, holding one and rubbing her thumbs along it until a better textured one comes along. Captain hovers near Dave and Connor, who are in the lead. You wonder what Captain¡¯s issue is, sticking so close to the two men, like a personal ghost.

    When you think about it, Captain¡¯s strange attachment isn¡¯t really all that strange. Dave and Connor saved all your lives, and are your only hope for survival. Why wouldn¡¯t you want to stick close to them?

    You eye captain wearily and think that, perhaps, you shouldn¡¯t stick that close to them.

    The apocalypse happened, you remember suddenly. Everything that was once important to you no longer matters, or even exists. The world you once knew is forever gone, lost to greed and war and the cruel march of time.

    What the hell?

    When they told you the world ended, you didn¡¯t really absorb it, did you? It didn¡¯t sink in, did it? Even now, you feel as if you¡¯re dreaming, or reading a book, or watching a movie. When you go to sleep tonight, you expect to wake up in your bed back home. But where is home?

    Home is here, now. The thick forests of North Carolina, or you guess what used to be North Carolina, are where you will live the remainder of your life. You¡¯ll probably die here, too.

    You trip over a rock. No one notices.

    Is this it? Will you waste away to nothing amongst the trees and ferns? Will you decompose with the litter? Will you melt into the dirt?

    After an hour and a half of silence, you grow tired of your own thoughts.

    You clear your throat and the entourage stops, Dave turning to quirk a concerned eyebrow at you. ¡°Do we have any water?¡± You ask, suddenly aware of how dry your throat is. It feels like you swallowed sandpaper, or just fucking ate sand. The doctor smacks himself in the head.

    ¡°Damn!¡± He admonishes, ¡°I knew I forgot somethin¡¯! Y¡¯all need fluids, sorry I didn¡¯t remember.¡± He gestures for Connor to extract the goods from his backpack, and soon enough everyone has a flask in their hands.

    You wonder how good of a physician Dave was before all this ¡®end of the world¡¯ business.

    ¡°A flask?¡± You raise an eyebrow, teasingly. You take a swig of what turns out to be water, and relish the feeling of the cool liquid soothing your irritated throat, only slightly disappointed that it¡¯s not whiskey.

    The other two newbies are also gratefully, if somewhat noisily, chugging their water.

    Dave politely waits for everyone to finish their glugs before asking, ¡°Anyone hungry?¡± All three of you nod enthusiastically, and he laughs good-naturedly. ¡°Alright, Connor¡¯s got some deer jerky in his pack. Should hold y¡¯all over until we stop for the night.¡± He rummages through Connor¡¯s backpack and tosses everyone some jerky.

    ¡°It¡¯s pretty fuckin¡¯ good, if I do say so myself,¡± Connor huffs proudly as he wrings his gloved hands. ¡°I added flavoring to it this time, so now it doesn¡¯t just taste like a shitty, gamey meat stick.¡±

    Taking a bite of the jerky, you agree that it¡¯s pretty fuckin¡¯ good. The cumin was a nice touch.

    You munch happily on your jerky as the group resumes hiking. The second stretch of walking in silence doesn¡¯t last nearly as long as the first one, as Captain gets winded after about 20 minutes and squawks while flapping their arms. They can¡¯t speak yet, so they garble consonants and point to a large rock before hobbling over and slamming their ass down.

    Connor looks pissed but Dave smiles softly, ever the saint, ¡°Need a break, hmn?¡± Captain nods and looks at the ground, suddenly¡ªand uncharacteristically¡ªbashful. ¡°Alright, let¡¯s take a break then.¡±

    You select one of the many rocks around you and scramble onto it, thankful for the respite. You weren¡¯t gonna say anything but you were getting real tired.

    Dave and Connor perch on a rock near yours, leaning against one another as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Maybe it is. What would you know?

    Harley settles down on the ground and lounges against a tree¡ªa smart choice on her part, you think. The sun shines brightly overhead and makes you squint. Hopefully this is a long break because you are really not made for hiking.

    Minutes drag on through the silence. Connor and Dave are chit chatting, so you guess it isn¡¯t actually silent, but the lack of sound beyond their voices is unsettling. Where are the birdcalls? If there¡¯s no one around to hear you, are you truly making a sound? If there are no gods watching over you, are you truly alive?

    Is this what the vacuum of space is like?

    The heat makes your vision swim and you rest your face in your hands, weary. Your body just came out of stasis, you remember, so it makes sense that you¡¯re struggling. Your carcass hasn¡¯t moved in months, probably, let alone hiked through rocky terrain, so you really should cut yourself some slack.Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.

    Exhaustion nestles in your bones and you groan quietly. G-d, you hate hiking. You should probably get used to it, you¡¯re gonna be doing a lot of it for the rest of your life, but in this moment, you let yourself hate it.

    After half an hour of relaxation, Dave stands up and tells everyone to get a move on. You swallow down another groan and clamber off your rock, saddened by the resuming hike.

    You, of course, do not speak of your exhaustion or hatred of hiking as the group continues along the trail. Wait, why is there a trail leading back to the camp? Doesn¡¯t that seem a little convenient? You ask the two men at the front of the group and they both chuckle.

    ¡°Do you think we¡¯d just wander randomly through the woods? You can¡¯t think we¡¯re that stupid,¡± Teases Connor, wolfish grin displaying his chipped tooth proudly.

    Dave ignores his partner and tells you, ¡°We don¡¯t have a compass anymore, so we follow old hikin¡¯ trails when we leave camp. Judgin¡¯ by some of the signs we¡¯ve seen, this whole area used ta be a national park, so it¡¯s crisscrossed with lotsa trails. We figured trails are more likely to lead us to important stuff like bunkers and campgrounds anyway.¡±

    ¡°Makes sense. What happened to your compass?¡± You ask, curious. These two don¡¯t seem the type to just lose shit.

    ¡°Rowdy,¡± Growls Connor, ¡°The little idiot.¡±

    You raise an eyebrow. Rowdy? Is that supposed to be a name? Then again, your name is Flash, so¡­ can you really judge?

    Dave takes pity on you and says, ¡°Rowdy is one of the people back at camp. He¡¯s pretty clumsy and ended up droppin¡¯ the compass down a gulch; ended up breakin¡¯ the damn thing. Connor tried to fix it but the magnetic bits were all messed up.¡±

    Connor huffs, apparently annoyed about not being able to fix the compass, ¡°I don¡¯t even know how he fucked it up so badly. I can normally fix pretty much anything, I¡¯m a mechanical engineer after all, but G-d damn I could not fix that fucking compass. It¡¯s like that little idiot cursed it or something.¡±

    ¡°That was months ago, Connor. Tranquilo,¡± Chides the doctor softly, rubbing circles on the other man¡¯s shoulder. He then stands up and stretches his back, cracking way more vertebrae than seems humanly possible. His toothy grin makes you think he can read minds, which is vaguely unsettling, and you avert your gaze.

    The two men resume the hike without preamble and the rest follow obediently. You think of ducklings following their mother and shake your head.

    Time passes slowly, arbitrarily, which kind of annoys you. You¡¯re hyperaware of every second that crawls by and yet you somehow manage to lose count. You have a pretty keen sense of time but the raging sun and your burning muscles confuse you, and you¡¯re not sure how long it¡¯s been since you¡¯ve had a break. Your calves say it¡¯s been over an hour but your lungs say it¡¯s been a half hour and the sun says you¡¯re an idiot for trying.

    Captain demands another break with wide gestures and extended vowels and everyone obliges, plopping down wherever there is shade. Harley seems to be in a similar state as you, drenched in sweat and breathing heavily, which makes you feel better about how much you¡¯re struggling. Dave and Connor are, of course, in perfect condition, but they¡¯ve been out here for months so it only makes sense.

    Connor is, once again, pissed. You hear him grumbling as he and Dave retreat to the shadow of a large boulder. He seems annoyed by Captain¡¯s need for breaks, which makes you nervous. You honestly really appreciate the timing of them asking to stop¡ªthey always seem to squawk just as you¡¯re getting a bit too winded.

    You heave, trying to catch your breath, and you tilt your head back. The azure sky is empty, almost oppressively so. What if you¡¯re the only ones out here?

    What if you¡¯re the only ones still alive?

    The weight of isolation descends on you and you gulp for air. You can¡¯t know what lies beyond the horizon, outside your limited perception of the world. Dave and Connor said they haven¡¯t seen anybody but those back at camp, you recall suddenly, and suddenly you can¡¯t breathe.

    This really might be it, a few idiots in the mountains of North Carolina.

    Are you ready for this? Probably not, but the inevitable passage of time doesn¡¯t give you much of a choice.

    Good luck, asshole.

    The others seem equally lost in thought, except the two men of course. Those two are always chatting with their heads leaning together, seemingly captivated by each other¡¯s words. Connor is absentmindedly rubbing his hands as Dave speaks, watching the doctor¡¯s arms gesture wildly with every word, occasionally nodding at the other man.

    It¡¯s¡­ Sweet.

    Harley is fidgeting but staring at the sky, seemingly uncomfortable with the feeling of her shirt on her skin. You want to help but don¡¯t know how, so you say nothing.

    Captain is tracing patterns in the dirt with a tan finger. Furrowed eyebrows speak of intense concentration but the unfocused gaze tells another story, and you wonder what¡¯s going on over there.

    A few minutes pass before Connor decides it¡¯s time to go, when he stands and offers a gloved hand to Dave, pulling him up with ease. You swear Dave¡¯s cheeks turn a little pink at that, but you can¡¯t imagine why, so you ignore it. After stretching his back, the doctor takes up the lead and continues along the beaten path.

    Everyone lapses into a surprisingly comfortable silence for another hour as the sun sinks lower in the sky, weighted down by the sins of man. Or, technically, the Earth is spinning away from her bright countenance, but you like the sound of ¡®the sins of man¡¯ so you¡¯ll stick with that.

    Poetry already seems a lost art but there¡¯s no one but you in your head.

    Soft orange light filters through the trees and the air is slick, heavy with humidity and stillness. You hear the faint trickling of water and figure you¡¯re near a stream. Throat suddenly dry, you sip water from your flask, scrunching your nose at the lukewarm liquid.

    Your eyes meet Connor¡¯s and he nods knowingly, doing you a real solid and saying, ¡°Hey, Dave, we should probably stop for the night soon. These idiots are more tired than you think.¡±

    The doctor laughs and agrees. He says something about muscular degeneration and fatigue but you¡¯re way more focused on Connor so it¡¯s in one ear and out the other.

    Honestly, considering Connor¡¯s reactions to Captain needing breaks, you thought he¡¯d be more annoyed with you, or even just ignore how tired you are. You wonder why he¡¯s so¡­ benevolent with you.

    Maybe he likes you.

    Or maybe Captain just brings the worst out of him.

    Captain is pretty annoying, and you¡¯re not easily ruffled, so you can¡¯t really blame Connor for being snippy.

    Dave¡¯s voice drags you out of your thoughts and back into the warmth of dusk. He announces that everyone will make camp in the next clearing, which should only be a few minutes away.

    As promised, a few minutes later, the trail opens up into a round clearing, and you smile despite yourself. Thank G-d all that hiking is over, at least for today.

    The two men immediately take off their large hiking packs and groan in relief. They both dig through their bags and start pulling out sleeping bags, tents, Tupperware containers, toothpaste, flashlights, pots and pans, water bottles, plates, utensils, towels, and bars of soap. You absently wonder how they managed to pack all of that into just those two bags.

    Dave sets off with Harley to collect kindling and build a fire and Captain¡ªwhose syllables are starting to form intelligible words¡ªmumbles something about dirt and wanders off in search of the trickling stream you heard earlier.

    At least, you think that¡¯s what they¡¯re doing. They said ¡°dirt¡± and then some gibberish followed by ¡°river¡± so you just nodded as they strode off into the trees.

    Connor asks you to help set up the tents and you, ever polite, acquiesce despite never having put up a tent before. You can¡¯t be sure that you¡¯ve never done it but the fact that you can¡¯t tell the front of the tent from the back speaks for itself.

    Noticing your struggle with the tent fabric, Connor laughs and shows you the different parts of the tents. Together, you both manage to put all four tents up and unroll all five sleeping bags.

    ¡°Why only four tents?¡± You ask Connor, who smiles knowingly at you.

    ¡°Dave and I share that big one,¡± He points at the largest tent, ¡°You can each have your own but we always share.¡±

    You want to ask why, but you don¡¯t. You just nod. No need to pry. These men saved your life, after all; they don¡¯t need to be questioned by the likes of you.

    Harley and Dave return in that moment, carrying armloads of sticks and dead leaves. The two pick a spot in the middle of the clearing and make a temporary firepit. They start stacking the kindling and light it with a lighter Dave fishes out of his pocket, cheering when the fire starts in earnest.

    You and Connor use the time it takes for them to start the fire to prep dinner. Connor is in charge of cooking at the camp, he informs you proudly, but has trouble actually dealing with food because of his gloves. ¡°I don¡¯t want to take them off if I can help it, so maybe you can handle all the chopping and stuff,¡± He suggests shyly, avoiding your gaze and rubbing at his hands.

    ¡°Sounds good,¡± You reply simply, not wanting to embarrass him further, for which he seems grateful.

    The two of you settle into a groove, with Connor telling you what to do and you doing it with ease. You zone out while chopping, mouth hanging open and muscle memory taking over.

    If Connor notices, he doesn¡¯t mention it.

    Soon enough, there¡¯s a large pot of vegetable soup bubbling over the fire. Captain returns looking very pleased with themself, which puts you on edge. You feel a bit bad about your reaction but there¡¯s nothing to be done about it.

    ¡°I washed up,¡± They say slowly, carefully. It seems practiced. ¡°I can¡­ help clean later. Because I did not¡­ make camp.¡±

    Dave grins his brilliant, radiant grin. ¡°You can talk! I¡¯m proud of ya, Cap, well done. You can take care of the dishes after dinner, then, yeah?¡± Captain nods bashfully. They make no sense, and it¡¯s kind of annoying.

    ¡°¡¯Bout time,¡± Connor huffs, ¡°They were driving me crazy with all that grunting.¡±

    Captain, by all rights, should be pissed at Connor¡¯s comment, but they aren¡¯t. Instead, they look quite pleased. You wonder why that is. Dave¡¯s eyes are twinkling knowingly but you can¡¯t figure out what it is that he knows.

    After a long day of hiking, dinner is a quiet affair, everyone sitting in the dirt drinking their soup. It¡¯s a peaceful sort of quiet. It¡¯s nice.

    Cap takes the dirty dishes down to the stream, which is in fact quite close by, while everyone else prepares for bed. The sun is no longer in sight but her light remains.

    The men explain that there is a toothpaste shortage, so you¡¯ll have to make do with a pea sized amount and your finger, because Connor forgot to bring toothbrushes again. Dave scolds Connor but doesn¡¯t seem angry in the slightest, fighting to keep a smile off his face. It warms your heart and you blush.

    Fatigue sets in as you mimic Dave¡¯s night routine, brushing your teeth, changing your clothes, and washing your face and pits. You¡¯re too tired to do much else and you crawl into one of the empty tents. You sprawl out on top of your sleeping bag and fall asleep soon after, night too warm to bother crawling inside the bag.

    You dream of the ocean, and the stars.

 Chapter 3 - Rebirth

    You awaken in the crisp cool of dawn to a startled yelp followed by giggles. You lazily rub your eyes and emerge from your tent to see Connor spinning Dave around, laughter surrounding the pair as Dave¡¯s legs flail.

    It¡¯s¡­ really cute. Connor¡¯s grip is decidedly gentle and almost intimate, and your cheeks heat up despite the chaste nature of the scene before you. What are they to each other?

    The two get dizzy and fall over, tumbling into the dirt with unconcealed mirth. Captain is hovering nearby, eyes narrowed, gaze locked on the pair of men tangled on the ground. You can almost hear them grinding their teeth.

    The two men sprawl out in the grass, staring at the sky, remaining silent for some time. Dave¡¯s head rests on Connor¡¯s bulky chest; Connor takes shallow breaths and runs gloved fingers through Dave¡¯s hair. You wonder what it was like when it was just them, alone in a newly reborn world.

    Harley grumpily emerges from her tent, long hair tangled and shirt rumpled. She seems put off by the state of her hair, so you walk over to her, and ask, ¡°Hey, do you need help with your hair?¡±

    She is still unable to speak, but the way her eyes light up and the big grin that illuminates her face speak more than enough. You still wait until she nods, just to be sure.

    Waving her over, you point at a stump and tell her to sit. She does so. You meander to where the two large hiking packs are leaning against a tree, and ask their owners, ¡°Is there a brush in one of these things?¡±

    Connor laughs, making Dave¡¯s head bounce with every exhale, and tells you to look through the side pockets of Dave¡¯s blue pack. You should¡¯ve figured it was in Dave¡¯s¡ªConnor barely has any hair. Four pockets later and you have a lavender brush in your hands, which you hold up triumphantly in the air for Harley to see. She giggles and claps in a manner that would be condescending from anyone but her.

    You stand behind Harley and begin brushing her dark, almost black hair. It¡¯s unbelievably soft and thick. You marvel at its beauty, wondering how it managed to say so soft after going G-d knows how long without being conditioned.

    Harley hums contentedly as you gently detangle her long locks, and a soft breeze caresses your cheeks. Your nostrils fill with the scent of the mountain, lonely and somber, and you briefly close your eyes.

    Shaking your head, you ask Harley how she wants her hair done. She¡¯s still unable to talk, so it takes a fair amount of miming on her part, but she eventually expresses a desire for braids. You nod.

    Hobbling back to Dave¡¯s pack, you dig around some more and find two scrunchies. You don¡¯t know where you learned to braid but your fingers seem to know what they¡¯re doing, so you don¡¯t worry about it too much. Your fine motor skills still aren¡¯t quite what they used to be but there¡¯s a marked improvement from yesterday, so you¡¯ll take what you can get.

    It takes a few minutes but soon enough Harley is the proud owner of two pigtail braids. She is overjoyed, wrapping you up in a big hug and kissing your cheek.

    Breakfast is a small affair, a simple meal of deer jerky and blueberries.

    The berries are absolutely delicious, though, and you gobble yours up quickly. They¡¯re juicy in the most wonderful way; you can¡¯t remember the last time you ever ate something so tasty. You have a hard time wiping the grin off your face, and remembering the last time you ate anything at all.

    With all five of you helping, packing up your meager camp doesn¡¯t take long. Stifling your laughter, you avoid Dave¡¯s eyes as he wrestles the tents back into Connor¡¯s bag. You wonder if this is going to happen every day.

    Watching Dave curse under his breath at the inanimate objects, you sure hope it will.

    With tents away, you and Connor brush your teeth in silence, not making eye contact while repeatedly shoving your fingers into your mouths. Damn him for forgetting toothbrushes. He passes you some deodorant, which you gratefully sweep under your arms, and soon enough everyone is ready to begin hiking again.

    Captain looks immensely displeased, which seems about right. Harley looks almost spaced-out, staring off into the forest with her mouth slightly open, which also seems about right. Dave and Connor take up the lead again, and the group continues along the trail, footsteps loud against the dirt and stone. Everything is as it should be.

    You suddenly notice the dark shadow stemming from the base of your personal Olympus. The mountains seem closer, larger. You gulp.

    It¡¯s cooler than yesterday, thank god; you¡¯re sweating a lot less. This might just be because you¡¯re in the shadow of the mountains, but you won¡¯t look a gift horse in the mouth. It¡¯s a nice change of pace. The sun sears your tingling cheeks, and you know you¡¯ll be burned by noon, despite the lower temperatures. Apollo may be doing his job a little too well.

    Almost two hours pass in silence before Connor loudly groans, ¡°G-d this is so boring.¡±

    You agree with the sentiment but aren¡¯t exactly sure how to remedy the situation. Even before all this, you weren¡¯t known as the life of the party.

    ¡°What do you suggest, hmn? More rousing verses of ¡®When You Die¡¯?¡± Dave teases his partner, elbowing him playfully in the gut. The two men share a look and you¡¯re dying to know what happened. There¡¯s definitely a story there.

    Connor snorts, ¡°No, dumbass.¡± He pauses. ¡°Well¡­ Maybe. That could be kinda fun, now that I think about it.¡±

    ¡°Anyone want to tell us what the hell ¡®When You Die¡¯ is?¡± Captain demands petulantly, arms crossed and eyebrows furrowed. You¡¯re glad they said something but wish they would¡¯ve been less¡­ awful about it.

    Dave, unperturbed by Captain¡¯s sour attitude, laughs amicably, ¡°It¡¯s a song Rowdy came up with. Him, Jian, and Buck were the first people we uncovered, and we spent most of our time back then just sorta hikin¡¯ around lookin¡¯ for people. To pass the time, we tried to sing camp songs but none of us could remember any of the words, just the tunes. So Rowdy decided to just, fill in the lyrics with whatever came to his head and sang ¡®When You Die¡¯ to the tune of ¡®She¡¯ll Be Coming Around the Mountain¡¯.¡±

    ¡°It sort of went like this,¡± Connor inhales,

    You¡¯ll get mauled by a bear when you die!

    You¡¯ll get mauled by a bear when you die!

    Oh, you¡¯ll get mauled by a bear

    You¡¯ll get mauled by a bear

    You¡¯ll get mauled by a bear when you die! (when you die)

    ¡°And then the next person would come up with crazy ways to die like ¡®struck by lighting¡¯ or ¡®dropped from an airplane¡¯ and it just keeps going around. It was a lot of fun.¡±

    That actually does sound like a lot of fun, but you¡¯re way more focused on how well Connor can sing than anything involving the actual song. You know you only met him yesterday and have no reason to have many preconceived notions of him, but you definitely did not expect him to sing so beautifully. As dumb as the song was, you could listen to Connor sing it on loop for days, he¡¯s so talented.You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

    Dave is staring at Connor the way Narcissus stared at his reflection. You wonder what to make of that. You figure you¡¯re looking at him in much the same way.

    With Captain being stubborn and Harley still being mute, the burden of the ¡®When You Die¡¯ verses falls upon you, Dave, and Connor. Harley claps happily along as you each sing, belting out whatever pops into your head as a way to die.

    Dave¡¯s are pretty basic, like drowning in a lake or falling from a tree, which suits him well enough. Yours are more interesting, but only just barely. Eating poison berries or falling off a cliff is certainly a more glamourous way to go.

    Connor, being the brilliant madman he is, comes up with the best ones. His make everyone¡ªincluding an extremely reluctant Captain¡ªburst out laughing. You get a kick out of imagining getting shot by your Uncle Irving, spontaneously combusting, or getting eaten by a squirrel.

    Many hours pass this way, in laughter and in song.

    Lunch comes and goes quickly, as a brief stop to munch on some strawberries and deer jerky. You¡¯re already sick of jerky but realistically you¡¯ll be eating it for every meal until you make it to camp, so you better get used to it, sister. It¡¯s a harrowing thought.

    The hours after lunch are quiet, the entire party seeming to fall into deep thought, though you really don¡¯t know why. Your brain feels empty, filled with cotton and static. You wonder if you¡¯ll ever see static again¡ªthen again, you really don¡¯t think you¡¯ll miss it.

    Things have changed. At least you don¡¯t have to pay any taxes in the foreseeable future.

    Even in your mind that joke falls flat, and you frown. Everyone is in front of you so no one notices you back there, grimacing into the trees like your saliva turned to blood. If the gods see you, they give no indication.

    You wonder what it would be like, lounging amongst the clouds. Could you touch the stars? Could you survey the lands of mortals? What would you do all day, with naught but your mind and the sun to keep you company? Would it be worth it?

    You shake your head. You really need to stop getting philosophical, it really does you no good. It just makes you nauseas.

    Maybe it¡¯s the sun making you nauseas, you concede, but you can¡¯t be sure. You don¡¯t know how long it¡¯s been but you¡¯re sweaty and tired and you just want to sit. You say nothing, of course. Wouldn¡¯t want to burden the others with your shortcomings and inability to regulate your own body temperature.

    Honestly, you expected the nuclear apocalypse to be more¡­ devastating. The lush forests and meandering streams speak nothing of the end of civilization. You always pictured a wasteland, endless expanding deserts and ravaged crumbling cities.

    This is nicer than you imagined it could be, so count your blessings. You now have a veritable garden of Eden at your fingertips. Don¡¯t let it go to waste.

    As Apollo drags the sun closer to the mountains, your lungs heave.

    Dave stretches his back and announces, ¡°If I remember correctly there should be a deep bit of river nearby, we should make camp near there so we can all bathe.¡± The idea of a bath makes you groan appreciatively, and Connor tosses you a look. You ignore him and he laughs.

    His wicked grin tells you all you need to know, but for the benefit of the others he teases, ¡°Sounds like Flash likes that idea.¡±

    ¡°Shut up, jackass,¡± You reply mildly, enjoying the rapport you have with the gloved man. He grins that chipped grin of his and you feel accomplished.

    The two men take pity on you and the others, firmly telling you to sit and wait while they wander around in search of the river. The permeating sounds of water caressing rock makes you think you won¡¯t be waiting long, but you have no complaints. You don¡¯t mind having a little sit-down.

    You lounge on a mossy stump, soaking up the mild sundown rays. You wonder how close the river really is.

    As it turns out, it is actually quite close.

    Everyone falls into the pattern established the night before, with Harley and Captain¡¯s roles switched. Connor, ever the gentleman, insists ¡°ladies first¡± as far as bathing order goes.

    Cap and Dave work on the fire while you and Connor take stock of the food reserves. There is more than enough deer jerky, some assorted berries, and dried rice. ¡°Is this it?¡± You mumble to yourself. ¡°This is piss poor.¡±

    Connor cackles and you look at him, eyes wide, confused. Then it hits you. ¡°I said that out loud, didn¡¯t I?¡± You ask despite knowing the answer.

    The tall man claps you on the shoulder. ¡°Oh, Flash. What will we do with you?¡±

    It sounds endearing, so you blush and look away, determined to focus on dinner. Your supplies are admittedly meager but with Connor at the helm, you two are sure to come up with something edible.

    You do eventually come up with¡­ something. It¡¯s honestly just all three of those things cooked together but it doesn¡¯t taste too bad. Throughout dinner, the others take turns bathing in the crisp river. You¡¯ll go after.

    Captain is quite vocal about how much they dislike the meal but the clean plate they hand you after dinner tells a whole different story. You smile to yourself.

    Because Connor did most of the cooking, you offer to wash the dishes. It seems only fair. Dave smiles and thanks you, reaching into his bag to extract a bottle of dish soap. He passes it to you as one passes a torch.

    The river is a peaceful place. The water is clear and cold, hiding nothing from your gaze, liked poured glass between the banks.

    You plop down on the rocks, leaning forward to wash the dishes. The solitude is a welcome change and you revel in it.

    The revelation lasts only a moment as isolation sets in; suddenly you remember that you may be one of only 12 people left on the planet. There may be no one else beyond the trees and ferns of your new domain. If the gods know they do not share, watching mortals with disdain from high up above the clouds.

    Cold water numbs your fingers as you scrub, raw and biting in the setting sun. A light blinks amongst the tangled trees. You stand, ever curious, and cautiously approach the thicket. The light blinks again, and you realize it¡¯s a firefly.

    As you finish the dishes you notice more and more fireflies emerging from the darkness, like stars shimmering at the edge of your vision, winking in and out of existence at whim. You wonder what they¡¯re saying.

    Every flicker of bioluminescence reminds you that you will never be truly alone in the world. Epimetheus¡¯ creations will always roam this earth, listening to the hollow moans of Prometheus through the trees.

    You stand.

    Camp is quiet upon your return, Captain and Harley already in their tents for the night. Dave and Connor are sitting by the fire, leaning against one another, fiddling with one of the many metal scraps Connor found in your bunker. The tents are up, thank god. Dave waves at you.

    You return the wave and rummage through Dave¡¯s backpack, removing the soap, a towel, and toothpaste. He nods as you amble back to the riverbank.

    The toothpaste you grabbed is cinnamon, you realize, and you crinkle your nose. It¡¯ll have to do but you¡¯re certainly not happy about it. You strip, neatly folding all your clothes in a little pile.

    River water feels colder on your naked body than it did on your hands, your dick shriveling away from the frigid depths as you doggy paddle. Dave was right when he said the river got deep here¡ªyou can barely reach the bottom at its deepest point, and you¡¯re over six feet tall.

    Swimming around for a bit, you enjoy the fireflies and the echoing insect calls.

    You lather while humming a song you can¡¯t remember the words to. The soap is lavender, and you inhale deeply. You feel clean for the first time you can remember.

    Emerging from the water, you shiver in the balmy air, squinting in search of your towel. You spot the beige bastard next to your folded clothes and pad over, enveloping yourself in its dry warmth. You¡¯re not completely dry when you pull on your boxers but you¡¯re not uncomfortable so you don¡¯t worry.

    Forgoing a shirt because of the humidity, you shimmy into your blue booty shorts with a bit of wiggling. The night is calm yet uneasy.

    Yawning, you amble back to camp, noting the dying embers and zipped tents. You crawl into the only empty one with ease and flop onto your back, eyes already heavy with fatigue, and sigh. You¡¯re tired, but not like yesterday.

    You are viscerally, unfathomably tired.

    oOo

    You float on a sea of emptiness. The void ebbs and flows like the tide, ever-changing and vast, blurring your jagged edges. You feel yourself bleeding into the dark. Stars surround and infuse you, blinding you with their brilliance and searing your bones.

    The moon is nowhere to be found. She sleeps, somewhere beyond the sky, lost to the ages in the abyss. You and her are both warm and cold, shivering in the gloam.

    Everything is soft. The nothingness holds you like a lover, caressing your cheeks with delicate tendrils, naught but whispers in the dark. You swallow and the whole world shudders.

    And suddenly you fall, into the emptiness, gaze unmoving. The stars laugh as you descend with melted wings. You can¡¯t feel your heartbeat but you don¡¯t think you¡¯ve ever had one. The weight of your sins drags you down, and you sink lower into the depths.

    You¡¯re alone.

    Silence envelopes you and crawls down your throat, seeking purchase in the maze of your bowels. You choke on it. You hear laughter but there is no sound, no echoes in the gloom, no ripples in the murky waves. Did you ever hear it at all?

    Oh, how you long for the sun as you drift motionless through the chasm. Distant stars wink, teasing you with warmth you cannot feel, reveling in your still torment. You hate them, but they do not care.

    Are you falling? Are you still? You do not know.

 Chapter 4 - Hope for the Trees and Ferns

    Connor¡¯s voice rouses you out of a surprisingly deep slumber, memories of a strange dream lost in the morning warmth. You blush when you see the ungodly amount of drool you left on your pillow. Shaking your head, you glance around to see if Connor is still looking at you, but he is nowhere to be seen. You know it was his voice that woke you up, so what gives here?

    You emerge from your tent and squint in the brilliant dawn. Connor is down by the river, alone, rinsing an assortment of berries. He is singing an old song, one that you know but can¡¯t quite remember.

    The notes float over the water and into the trees. You remain motionless, enraptured by the man¡¯s lilting words.

    He sings of love and death, of power gained and lost, and you listen.

    You step forward, crushing a branch beneath your foot with a loud snap. You freeze, annoyed by the clich¨¦, as Connor¡¯s head spins around, and you wave guiltily when his eyes meet yours. He flashes you a dazzling chipped grin and you can¡¯t help but grin back. ¡°Hey!¡± He greets you happily, ¡°Good morning, sunshine.¡±

    He pats the bank next to him and you curl up at his side, resting your chin on your knees. You stare at the sparkling water. The river rocks are cold against your body, soft shorts doing nothing to protect you, and it¡¯s grounding. For some time, there is silence. The only sound is Connor¡¯s soft breathing and the trickling of water. It¡¯s a peaceful kind of silence, borne of friendship and intimacy, and it¡¯s home.

    ¡°I¡¯m usually the only one up this early,¡± He tells you conversationally as he finishes rinsing the berries, ¡°What woke you up?¡±

    Cheeks heating up, you mumble, ¡°Your singing¡­¡± You shouldn¡¯t be embarrassed, not after the last few days you¡¯ve had with this man, but you still are.

    He quirks an eyebrow at you but then shrugs, turning to face the water. There are no more berries to rinse and yet his hands are still submerged in the shimmering river. His shoulders are tense, like he¡¯s nervous, but you can¡¯t fathom why. He wipes his beard on his bicep.

    A few gears turn in your head and you realize you¡¯ve never seen him without gloves.

    A soft sigh escapes his lips as he makes a decision, extracting his hands from the frigid water and curling them in his lap. They¡¯re raw and bruised and ashy, with nails painted bright red. They look withered, as if he pulled them from the fires of Hephaestus a second too late.

    You don¡¯t let him catch you staring.

    Ultimately, despite your best efforts, Connor notices your straying eyes. ¡°I know, they¡¯re all fucked up. I have a¡­ thing. I pick at my hands constantly if I¡¯m not wearing gloves. It¡¯s compulsive so I¡­¡± He swallows. ¡°So I keep the gloves on to make sure I don¡¯t make it any worse. Dave usually keeps me from picking at ¡®em but it¡¯s hard when I¡¯m alone, y¡¯know?¡±

    You nod. You don¡¯t really know, but you can sympathize, and that¡¯s what he needs right now. After a moment of companionable silence, you reach out and rest your hand on Connor¡¯s shoulder. He smiles at you.

    The moment stretches on, but not unbearably so, as you try to convey wordless support and acceptance of your friend. His twinkling hazel eyes make you think he¡¯s picking up what you¡¯re trying to put down. Consider yourself lucky that he understands.

    ¡°Connor? Where¡¯d you go, mi vida?¡± Dave calls out from their tent, voice husky with sleep and grumpiness. The fact that Dave isn¡¯t a morning person is strangely gratifying. It¡¯s nice to know he¡¯s not actually perfect, just almost perfect.

    Connor meets your amused gaze and you nod¡ªyou won¡¯t keep him here when Dave still hasn¡¯t woken up completely. He grins and stands, calling out, ¡°I¡¯m here, hayete, relax.¡±

    You have no idea what their foreign words mean but they make you feel warm inside nonetheless. You idly watch as Connor ducks into their tent before you decide it¡¯s time to get ready for the day. Splashing cold water on your face, you clean the sleep from your eyes and the sweat from your skin.

    Harley emerges from her tent, sleepily rubbing at her eyes. She smiles at you and you wave, asking if she would like you to do her hair again. She nods shyly.

    Humming, you make quick work of her braids. Your fine motor movements are almost up to par, you note with a hint of satisfaction. You look at the sky and squint. Today is warm, almost unbearably so, and you frown. You¡¯re gonna sweat a lot today.

    Breakfast is deer jerky and assorted berries, again, but you don¡¯t complain aloud. At least you¡¯re being fed. Captain grumbles but also miraculously remains silent, reluctant to be petulant at the ass crack of dawn.

    The beauty of these simple morning meals is that there are no dishes to be cleaned, so packing up camp is a relatively quick process.

    Soon enough, you are hiking again, much to your chagrin.

    The entire group seems extra tired today, which Connor seeks to remedy with songs and games. Eventually he gives up and falls silent, because I-Spy can only last so long when there¡¯s nothing but rocks and trees and dirt.

    Honestly, you don¡¯t mind the silence. It gives your mind time to wander.

    What time of year is it? Dave said something about it being summer, you think, and the intensity of the sun corroborates that. But why bother dividing the year into seasons, the way everyone did before? There might not be anyone else on the entire planet¡ªsurely you can get away with getting rid of the calendar.

    The more you think about it the more you realize that you would probably divide time up by seasons anyway, so maybe the calendar is one thing you can hold on to. Humans have been using the same calendar for hundreds of years¡ªthey obviously got something right if it¡¯s lasted that long. Specific numbered dates are obviously moot because no one knows when exactly they woke up, so summer is probably the closest you¡¯re gonna get, and that¡¯s okay.

    It doesn¡¯t matter much anyway. What need have you for date keeping?

    A sharp gasp snaps you back into the present like ice water down your back. The others are all frozen in place, eyes wide, frantically scanning the area for what made Dave make that sound. There¡¯s a slight bend in the path, so all you can see of the man is his hiking pack.

    ¡°Bear,¡± He hisses under his breath, and your heart stops.

    Rivulets of sweat drip along your spine, and you watch on, horrified, as Connor creeps around the bend. You don¡¯t know all that much about bears, but you know that thing can kill you if it was so inclined.

    You hear only rustling and panting breaths. Harley grasps the back of your shirt, eyes shimmering with unshed tears. You dare not speak a word.

    A million scenarios run through your head¡ªDave mauled and Connor eviscerated, leaving you alone in this world. How could the Fates do this now? How dare they cut the threads of such beautiful souls so suddenly?

    Slowly, so slowly you aren¡¯t sure if they¡¯re actually moving, the two men shuffle back around the bend. The sight of them both intact drains tension from your lungs. Thank G-d.

    Through a series of complicated gestures, Dave instructs everyone to climb up the boulders that make up the bend. When you do, you see the creature that stopped your heart curled up on the path. Its eyes are open but unseeing. You think it might be sick.

    Porous rock faces scratch your palms as you crawl ever so gradually away from the beast, sweat beading on your forehead and soaking your eyebrows. You hold your breath to remain silent.

    Minutes drag by where the only sound you hear is your heart pounding in your ears.

    Eventually, the two men decide it¡¯s safe to return to the path. You¡¯re not so sure, but you figure they know better than you, so you follow nonetheless. Even back on the path, no one speaks¡ªwhat can one say?

    That could¡¯ve ended so badly so quickly.

    Dave and Connor are hiking slower than normal, shoulders pressed together and fingers occasionally brushing. They seem shaken. What would you do without them?

    Fuck. They could¡¯ve died. And on the last day of your journey, too.

    Together, you all decide to skip lunch and make it to camp sooner, in the interest of getting as far away from the bear as possible. To stop your stomachs from growling, you munch away on what tastes like homemade granola¡ªyou don¡¯t know where they were hiding this granola but it¡¯s fucking delicious.The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    You spend way more time than you¡¯d like to admit trying to figure out what makes the granola so damn tasty. It tastes vaguely of allspice but more subtle, almost floral or fruity. It¡¯s killing you.

    ¡°What¡¯s in this granola? It¡¯s amazing. I doubt it¡¯s allspice but it kinda tastes like that, whatever spices you used are A1,¡± You ask, curiosity outweighing shyness, lightly tapping Connor¡¯s shoulder to get his attention.

    He grins, ¡°Right? Me and Sana found this weird bush near the river one day and she thought she recognized it, so we dried out the little berry things and ground them up and it ended up being delicious. Dave was so mad because it could¡¯ve been poisonous but it ended up being fine. We call it ¡®spicebush¡¯, which admittedly isn¡¯t very creative, but I don¡¯t think it matters all that much.¡±

    You tell him you¡¯re glad they found the ¡°weird bush¡± and he agrees emphatically, joking that if it was poisonous he would¡¯ve at least died happy. The two of you laugh as you continue along the path. Dave looks less than amused, trailing behind the two of you with a sour expression on his face.

    Connor pointedly ignores Dave¡¯s displeasure but you can¡¯t, ¡°What¡¯s your problem, Dave?¡±

    ¡°Death isn¡¯t funny. He knows better.¡±

    Yikes. Looks like you hit a sore spot. You grimace at Connor who rolls his eyes without turning around to face his partner. This seems like an argument that has happened before, and you¡¯d rather not get involved.

    Tense silence settles over the group, with both Dave and Connor refusing to give an inch. Captain is lingering near Dave, glaring daggers at Connor, who glares right back. You and Harley share a look of mutual awkwardness, trapped between two stubborn men in a meaningless fight.

    Does this happen often?

    Every second feels like an hour. The group rounds every corner and climbs every hill without words, and every step is a nail in the coffin of your comfort and feelings of familial affection.

    How the hell are you supposed to deal with this for the rest of your life? You can¡¯t even take it for twenty whole minutes.

    A hefty sigh escapes Connor¡¯s body and you look at him, mildly startled by the sudden sound. ¡°Dave,¡± He speaks softly, sweetly, and you hear Dave huff in response. ¡°You guys go on ahead, let me talk to Dave alone.¡±

    You raise an eyebrow but nod, gesturing for Harley and Captain to follow you further down the path. They follow obediently, which makes sense for Harley but makes you suspicious of Captain. You were sure they¡¯d fight to be by Dave¡¯s side. You walk until you are around a bend, a boulder separating you three from the two men.

    Captain¡¯s wordless compliance makes sense when they suggest that the three of you climb over the boulder to eavesdrop. You say no, of course, but Harley whips out puppy dog eyes and you break. ¡°Fine, okay, but if they see us, it¡¯s your fault, Captain.¡±

    ¡°They would know it was me anyway, dumbshit.¡±

    That¡¯s true.

    Quietly, if not quite so gracefully, the three of you scale the rocks and sneak up on Dave and Connor. The two are staring at each other with their arms crossed.

    ¡°Dave.¡±

    Dave remains silent.

    ¡°David.¡±

    A twitching eyebrow is the only response.

    ¡°David Roberto Avilla, you stubborn man. I was kidding! You know that!¡±

    ¡°And you know that it bothers me! How many times do we have to have this talk, mi amor? Why can¡¯t you just stop sayin¡¯ shit like that?¡±

    Connor wrings his hands, ¡°It just comes out, I can¡¯t help it! I try not to do it but sometimes it slips out. I¡­

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, albi. I shouldn¡¯t have said that. I know it bothers you. I¡¯ll try to do better in the future, but cut me a little slack, okay? It¡¯s a hard thing to change, but I¡¯ll change it,¡± Connor¡¯s voice quivers and you have to look away. His passion runs deep.

    Dave¡¯s eyes crinkle and he smiles, stepping forward to envelop the other man in a hug, ¡°I appreciate you tryin¡¯. That¡¯s all I ask from you.¡±

    You avert your eyes again when Connor tightens the hug, deciding to give the men some respect and leave them the hell alone. You scuttle off the boulder and Harley follows suit. Captain stays glued to their spot, eyes trained on the two men like a hawk watches a mouse, and you roll your eyes.

    As it turns out, you got out of dodge just in time.

    ¡°CAPTAIN!¡± Connor¡¯s voice echoes through the mountains, ¡°FUCK OFF!¡±

    The hike is awkward after that, to say the least. Connor is fuming at the head of the group, arms crossed and back hunched, stomping along the path faster than usual. You get why he¡¯s mad but you really want him to slow his roll a little bit, you can¡¯t keep up with his long strides.

    Captain seems equally put off, lagging at the back of the procession, moving frustratingly slow in what you suspect is an effort to piss off everybody even more. They have a bitter expression on their face as they sluggishly prowl along the trail.

    Harley looks extremely uncomfortable, grabbing at the hem of her shirt and avoiding eye contact with anybody. You figure the tension is really getting to her¡ªit¡¯s almost suffocating.

    You stay next to her to offer silent support. She eventually relaxes and releases her now-crumpled shirt, gently bumping shoulders with you in silent acknowledgement. Extending a hand, you offer it to her, and she grasps it gratefully.

    The two of you walk hand-in-hand for some time. It¡¯s sweet and calming, and you can tell that it¡¯s putting Harley¡¯s mind at ease. The others may be fighting but she still has you.

    Dave is hovering near Connor, not speaking, as if waiting for an opening. He says nothing as Connor rubs violently at his gloved hands¡ªperhaps he¡¯s being lenient because Connor has every right to be upset. You can almost see Connor¡¯s hands bleeding through the gray fabric.

    When Connor releases a heavy sigh and unfolds his arms, Dave swoops in.

    ¡°Why don¡¯t we take a break, hmn?¡± The doctor hums, sidling up to Connor and sliding an arm around his lower back. Dave gets a reluctant nod in return but that¡¯s all he really needs. He grabs Connor¡¯s hand and drags him away from the group to take refuge behind an idle elm, ducking their heads together.

    You are just close enough to hear the two whispering to one another.

    ¡°David¡­¡± Growls Connor, seemingly at his wit¡¯s end, ¡°Can¡¯t we just leave that one behind?¡±

    You assume he means Captain and you can¡¯t really blame him.

    Dave chuckles softly, affectionately, ¡°No, Con, we can¡¯t. You and I both know you¡¯re being dramatic. What¡¯s your problem?¡±

    ¡°They¡¯re just¡­ Ugh! So annoying! They cling onto you like a lost goddamn toddler, it¡¯s ridiculous,¡± Connor huffs, and you¡¯re inclined to agree with him, honestly. Captain is just a little too much.

    ¡°I know that they bother you but we can¡¯t just abandon them. I know you, and I know you wouldn¡¯t leave them alone out here. Connor,¡± You hear shuffling but can¡¯t see what¡¯s happening, ¡°Tranquilo. You usually don¡¯t get this pissed about anythin¡¯ so I¡¯m sure it¡¯ll pass.¡±

    ¡°What if it doesn¡¯t?¡±

    ¡°It will. Everyone¡¯s weird right after they wake up, remember? Just give Cap some time and they¡¯ll come around.¡±

    You can hear the smile in Connor¡¯s voice when he says, ¡°Okay, okay, but they¡¯re your problem until then.¡± There is silence beyond the slight rustling of clothing and you wonder what they¡¯re up to back there, but before you know it the two men return to their three wards. Captain looks livid.

    Dave informs the three of you that you¡¯ll reach camp within the next few hours. You hang onto that thought like a buoy to keep you afloat as you trudge down the dirt trail, body begging for a break. ¡®We¡¯re almost there!¡¯ You keep telling yourself, and your carcass can take another step, desperate to get to the end.

    The tension from earlier is miraculously gone, and you silently thank Dave for that. Connor is relaxed, joking loudly and laughing freely once again, which is a welcome change.

    Captain seems about the same but they don¡¯t have the same disproportionately large effect on morale that Connor does, so you barely notice. You think that maybe you should feel bad about that.

    The doctor is quite pleased with himself, judging by the smug smirk on his face. It looks¡­ out of place on such a sweet man. You don¡¯t judge him for it, though¡ªyou¡¯d be smug too if you diffused Connor that quickly.

    Honestly, you think it¡¯s a little unfair of you to think of Connor as a bomb. He had every right to be angry, and he never took his anger out on anybody, so maybe you should rethink the situation. He had no real intent to abandon Captain, and you know that. Plus, Captain knew better and should¡¯ve apologized. They seem to act solely based on what will piss Connor off the most.

    Of course, you did that same thing as Cap, so keep that in mind. You just didn¡¯t get caught.

    Maybe you deserved to be caught, same as them.

    Guilt weighs your gaze down and you stare at your feet as you hike. You knew better than to eavesdrop, you really did, so perhaps next time you should endeavor to be less easily swayed. It was admittedly surprising that Harley was so on board with Captain¡¯s idea, but she does seem to have a curious streak a mile long.

    Shaking your head, you try not to dwell on the past. You have the rest of your life ahead of you¡ªfeeling guilty about something that¡¯s already been resolved will do you no good.

    You, of course, still feel guilty, but that¡¯s just what kind of person you are.

    Keeping an eye on Connor, it becomes clear that he really is over what happened. He¡¯s singing again, obviously making up the words as he goes, clapping out a staggering beat. Harley still can¡¯t speak but she sure can clap, excitedly matching Connor¡¯s muffled rhythm with her own echoing notes.

    Time heals all wounds, as they say, and it proves true as you hike along the dirt trail. Eventually, your guilt dissipates in the breeze. You move lazily, mirroring the nonchalance of the gods upon Olympus. You wonder how we ever came to worship such pitiful beings.

    Fear is the answer to that, you suppose. There is nothing scarier than an all-powerful being with a penchant for being petty. Tis better to idolize and be ignored than to never acknowledge and be punished.

    Dave, realizing everyone got too caught up in Connor¡¯s performance, requests a break. You were too distracted to notice but you¡¯re drenched with sweat and exhausted as all hell.

    He doesn¡¯t sit, though, and actually wanders a little bit farther along the path. He returns with a grin on his face and plops down next to Connor. You sprawl out on a shaded patch of grass, folding your arms behind your head.

    The mountain looms in your peripheral vision, and you take a deep breath, lungs siphoning precious oxygen from the crisp, natural air. You could get used to this. You think life may have some meaning, as you sit there and bask in the sun, surrounded by faraway bird calls and the scent of the earth. The gods don¡¯t notice your epiphany, too busy lounging apathetically on the mountaintops.

    The doctor announces that the camp is only 10 minutes away, and you and Harley both gasp excitedly while Captain inexplicably continues to pout. Silence rolls down the mountains and you draw in a small breath.

    When hiking resumes the entire group seems to be moving in slow motion, limbs swimming through molasses as distant birds sing. Your heartbeat throbs beneath your skin, blood surging through your veins, and you can feel your pulse in your head. What comes next? What will you find at the bottom of the mountain? What will the gods think, sneering down at you from the heights of Olympus?

    Wait. You heard birds, didn¡¯t you? ¡°Hey Dave,¡± You call out to your savior, ¡°What happened to the animals? I could¡¯ve sworn I heard some birds.¡±

    The doctor slows his pace and you jog up to match his strides. A warm smile settles on his face and burns your cheeks. ¡°You¡¯re pretty observant, Flash! I didn¡¯t think twice about those bird calls, but yeah, those are the first I¡¯ve heard in a long time. I thought all the small stuff was killed. I¡¯ve seen some deer n¡¯ other large mammals but no birds, so this is promisin¡¯. Maybe Earth has a fightin¡¯ chance after all.¡±

    His words make you grin and hum to yourself. The birds continue their eulogy and every note makes your heart swell. Maybe, just maybe, everything will be okay.

 Chapter 5 - Jubilation on Arrival

    The camp is larger than you imagined¡ªabout 46 yards across¡ªwith its borders delineated by smooth white stones. It is nestled between two rivers, one to the south and one to the east, with a small hill dividing it into two parts. To the north a mountain rests, dormant behind the ramshackle huts, a silent guardian overlooking its fertile valley. Serenity lulls over the land like mist. ¡°Welcome home,¡± Connor says as he rests a friendly hand on your shoulder. You smile at him and he grins back, chipped tooth peeking out.

    The first thing you notice about the camp is the distinct lack of people. You definitely remember Dave and Connor talking about other people, and that they were supposedly living here, so what gives? It¡¯s almost sundown, they should be here.

    Dave, reading your mind, says, ¡°Everyone¡¯s out on scavengin¡¯ and huntin¡¯ trips. Sana should be around here somewhere, though, she stayed to watch camp. I told you that already¡ªdon¡¯t ya remember?¡± His ability to answer questions you don¡¯t speak aloud is still off-putting.

    You nod and use the time it takes Connor and Dave to unpack to explore camp. It¡¯s nearing the end of the day, and the sun is starting to sink behind the hill, meaning you came from the south. In front of you rests a firepit, a circle of rocks and soot marred only by the pounding of feet. There is an unusually flat log and a stump nearby, probably used for seating and as makeshift tables, as well as a large willow tree sleeping where the two rivers meet.

    Everything looks well-used and well-loved; the mosaic of footprints around the remains of many fires tells more stories than any novel ever could. There are a few tarp-covered lean-tos nearby, constructed from garbage bins that have probably seen better days.

    It feels homey. You smile to yourself.

    Harley is close to you, meandering slowly along the edge of camp, inspecting the plants. She has a broad leaf in her hands and she strokes it as she goes. Her mouth is moving and you hear sounds coming from the depths of her bosom but she is not saying words, or at least not words you understand. She speaks her own language, you gather, a language born of solitude and overstimulation.

    Captain is lurking, stalking through the camp like a tiger in search of bleeding prey. They appear to be doing something similar to Harley but it¡¯s somehow more annoying. Their eyes scan every hut and lean-to.

    You shake your head and stop watching them. They sometimes give you the willies with those intense, lingering stares and resting bitchface. The second thing isn¡¯t really their fault, you reason, but they certainly don¡¯t try to change it either.

    The two men go up the hill, and gesture for the three of you to follow.

    Upon the hill there is a half-circle of huts, a lone tent, and a canopy tent with large Tupperwares and garbage bags underneath it. Dave explains, ¡°Since Argo¡¯s not here, y¡¯all won¡¯t be able to get your own huts yet. He¡¯s the one who builds ¡®em, and despite a master¡¯s in mechanical engineerin¡¯, Connor can¡¯t make ¡®em anywhere near as well as Argo.¡± Connor huffs good-naturedly at this. ¡°So for now, y¡¯all can crash in your tents. Argo will build y¡¯all huts when he and Rowdy get back.¡±

    That makes sense.

    ¡°Oh my, you really did find more people,¡± A soft voice says from behind you, and you jump slightly, spinning around to face the source. It¡¯s a small woman with dark skin and hair hidden beneath a flowery hijab, face tranquil and nervous at the same time. Honestly, she¡¯s beautiful.

    ¡°Everyone, meet Sana. She used to be a lawyer, you know,¡± Connor announces with a grin, eyeing Sana cheekily.

    Sana rolls her eyes, ¡°Oh shoosh, you. Nice to meet you, everybody. I¡¯m Sana.¡±

    You introduce yourself and Harley, who waves happily at the other girl. Captain looks annoyed but still introduces themself after Dave side-eyes them.

    Your stomach growls loudly and everyone looks at you, surprised. Dave laughs, ¡°Hungry, huh? Let¡¯s get started on dinner.¡± You nod, cheeks burning, and follow the man back down the hill.

    At the firepit, Dave smiles at you fondly, soft features illuminated with a radiant grin. ¡°So, I¡¯ve been thinkin¡¯,¡± He starts, head tilted to the side, eyes locked on yours, ¡°Maybe you should take over cookin¡¯ duty. You seem to really know what you¡¯re doin¡¯, and Connor honestly hates cookin¡¯, but he¡¯s been stuck doin¡¯ it because he¡¯s the only one who doesn¡¯t ruin the food one way or another. He¡¯s, ah, certainly no Gordon Ramsey, but he¡¯s doin¡¯ his best. I was hopin¡¯ you could relieve him of kitchen duty.¡±

    The way Dave speaks is almost musical, words cascading from his mouth like the soothing waters of the Styx. His syllables lilt and flow, and you find yourself swept up in the rhythm of his cadence. You have to pull yourself out of the current with a shake of your head. Dave blinks at you.

    ¡°What?¡±

    He laughs, a loud and boisterous sound that burrows into your bones. Your cheeks heat up and you look away, but if the affection in his eyes says anything, Dave is unfazed by your distraction. You assume he¡¯s used to it.

    ¡°Would you be willin¡¯ to take over kitchen duty? Connor kinda hates it and I¡¯m startin¡¯ to think you were a cook or somethin¡¯ before the whole apocalypse thing started.¡± He asks softly, doing his best not to pressure you.

    At this point, you notice that Connor did not follow the two of you, despite him being in charge of cooking. Maybe Dave¡¯s been thinking about asking you this for a while now.

    Honestly, you think he might be right about you being a chef. Something about cooking seems right to you, in the most visceral way.

    ¡°Yeah, uhm.¡± You pause. ¡°I think you¡¯re right about that. I¡¯m not really sure if I was a chef or if it was a hobby or whatever, but I really liked helping Connor, so sign me up.¡±

    Dave grins again, ¡°Thanks, Flash.¡±

    He leads you over to one of the lean-tos made from worn out plastic garbage bins. Dave explains that Connor made it, of course, and his voice brims with pride. The lean-to is covered in a thick beige tarp, which flaps gently in the light wind, and houses all the non-perishable food items the survivors managed to scrounge up. There are towers of cans¡ªbeans, spinach, fruit cocktail, corn, chicken noodle soup, spam, you name it¡ªand stacks of cereal boxes, cheezits, hamburger helper, and other dry goods behind the can towers.

    Seeing the cans in front makes you wonder if that was a smart move, but you don¡¯t know where you would¡¯ve put them so you say nothing.

    Dave admits to breaking the windows of quite a few Walmarts to get all this stuff, but they seem pretty well off for apocalypse survivors living in huts in the mountains, so he can¡¯t complain. ¡°There¡¯s not as much as it looks,¡± He tells you quietly, ¡°Connor and I ain¡¯t sure this¡¯ll last us through the winter. You any good at makin¡¯ food last?¡±

    You think about it and figure, yeah, sure, you got this. Honestly, you¡¯re not sure, but you can¡¯t let Dave down, can you? You tell Dave you got it covered and he grins at you.

    ¡°Alright,¡± He claps you on the back, ¡°What did you have in mind for tonight¡¯s dinner? There¡¯s only six of us tonight, so we should use somethin¡¯ we don¡¯t have a lot of. We got some deer meat from the last hunt, but other than that all we got are these nonperishables.¡± He gestures toward the lean-to and you nod, crouching down to inspect the contents.

    Way in the back of the lean-to you find packages of dried spices and herbs, courtesy of Sana, apparently. You grin and silently thank the woman for nabbing virtually every flavoring imaginable. You can do a lot with a good curry base and she really came through for you on that front.

    ¡°Dave,¡± You say, more confident that you were before, ¡°I think I can make all this last a good few weeks. If y¡¯all continue to hunt and bring me meat and stuff, we can make this last a long ass time.¡±

    He grins the most radiant grin you¡¯ve ever seen, as if the clouds parted for the first time in the history of the planet and your infant eyes met with the naked sun. ¡°Glad to hear it.¡±

    You blush and you don¡¯t know why.

    The two of you go back and forth for some time before deciding to make the last two boxes of hamburger helper. Hopefully it¡¯ll taste okay with deer meat.This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

    Dave leaves you to your devices and wanders off to where Connor is working on what looks like a car engine, wrapping a tan arm around wide shoulders. The shorter man rests his head against the taller man¡¯s deltoid and you can see Connor¡¯s back visibly relax, all tension evaporating. You raise an eyebrow but say nothing, turning back to the lean-to and getting started on dinner.

    A lot of the pots and pans you find under a different tarp nearby are rusted and have holes, which¡ªin retrospect¡ªyou should¡¯ve suspected, but didn¡¯t. This makes your life decidedly more difficult but you don¡¯t mind all that much. You take mental note to talk to Dave about it; perhaps another Walmart trip is in order. Camping supplies would do everyone a lot of good.

    You cook mindlessly, muscle memory taking over as you wonder how close the nearest Walmart is. Would it be empty? It¡¯s been G-d knows how long since the war started, so there might not be anything left. You envision a dark, endless Walmart with broken windows and empty shelves. You shudder.

    As it turns out, hamburger helper tastes just fine with deer meat. The meal earns you a masculine pat on the back from Connor and you¡¯re overcome with pride. You beam.

    Serving yourself some food, you wander over to where Harley is relaxing beside the lean-to. She smiles warmly at you and pats the grass beside her. You grin and plop down next to her, resting your chipped plate on your lap. She says nothing, of course, and just hums before tucking back into her rice. You find yourself grateful for the silence.

    The two of you finish your meals and still do not speak, lounging back to sprawl in the grass. You break the silence to point out the funny clouds and Harley giggles at every one. Honestly, you¡¯re not all that funny, so you¡¯re glad she finds you amusing. Seriously¡ªyou said one cloud looked like a dead goat and she still laughed. A warm feeling settles in your chest.

    Sana comes over to collect your plates and explains that everybody takes turns doing the dishes. You wonder whose idea that was. Probably Dave¡¯s.

    You watch lazily as she approaches the too-flat log by the south river, stacking your plates with the others before wandering back to the lean-to to get a bottle of liquid dish soap. You guess it¡¯s another spoil from many a Walmart trip.

    Harley makes a small sound next to you, and look at her, concerned. She is gaping at the sky, enraptured. You look up.

    Orange streaks bleed into the blue of the sky as the sun makes her descent, illuminating camp with an otherworldly glow. You sit up, as does Harley, and the two of you stare beyond the hill where the huts lie. You can almost see Apollo¡¯s golden chariot shimmering in the eventide.

    ¡°It¡¯s beautiful,¡± You whisper, mostly to yourself.

    ¡°It is¡­¡± Harley breathes beside you.

    You look at her.

    ¡°You can talk?¡±

    She looks at you.

    ¡°I can talk?¡±

    You both shoot up to your feet.

    ¡°I can talk!!¡± She beams, launching herself at you for a hug.

    You hug her back with everything you have, and you both laugh joyously and spin around. You were really starting to worry about her¡ªDave said it could take a while but it¡¯s been days.

    Speak of the devil, Dave saunters over to you two after hearing the racket. ¡°What¡¯s goin¡¯ on over here?¡±

    You and Harley glance giddily at one another before Harley exclaims, ¡°Dave!! I can talk!¡±

    ¡°Oh my G-d!! That¡¯s great, Harley, I¡¯m so proud of you!!!,¡± The doctor¡¯s grin is so genuine it makes you feel dirty in comparison. He gathers you both into a great big bear hug. ¡°This works out because I needed to talk to you two! I already told Captain, but y¡¯all need to know too.¡±

    He stretches his back and shoves his hands in his jeans pockets, ¡°Walk with me for a second.¡± You both nod and follow him up the hill.

    He gestures toward the large canopy tent in the middle of the circle of huts. It is weighed down with colorfully painted boulders and protects what look like bags of garbage from the rain and sun, and you raise an eyebrow at the doctor. Is this really the best solution for waste management? Dave, of course, reads your mind, and says, ¡°It¡¯s not garbage. The bags are full of shoes! If you do a little diggin¡¯ you¡¯ll find the tupperwares in there somewhere¡ªthey have clothes and toiletries and bedding and stuff. You should find anything and everything you need. Just grab whatever you want and take it back to where y¡¯all wanna set up your tents. I¡¯ll get Connor to get ¡®em out for y¡¯all.

    ¡°He and I are in that tent at the west end of camp if you need anything. It¡¯s obviously not time for bed yet but I thought y¡¯all¡¯d want time to settle in. Meet us out at the firepit when you¡¯re done, we¡¯ll celebrate everyone¡¯s safe arrivals and Harley¡¯s ability to talk,¡± He walks off with a wave, leaving the two of you to dig through the mountain of supplies.

    As you open Tupperware after Tupperware, you slowly but surely find clothes big enough for you. You and Harley are similar sizes, so anything large and feminine you hand to her¡ªyou only really want to wear plain shirts and shorts. You end up with a few tee shirts but freeze when you see a large purple hoodie. That¡¯s it, you think to yourself, that¡¯s your new look. You love hoodies and you love purple and you know you will never take that thing off.

    You end up with deodorant, soap, toothpaste, a toothbrush, a razor, your hoodie, 4 tee shirts, 8 pairs of boxers, 3 pairs of shoes, and 5 pairs of shorts. A decent score, all things considered. You¡¯re elated beyond reason about getting your hands on that toothbrush, so all the other stuff is just extra, honestly.

    You pile your haul onto a particularly large tee shirt and bundle it all up for the short walk to where you plan on setting up your tent.

    Looking around, you spot Connor, watching amusedly as he wrestles with his hiking pack. ¡°Come out, damn you!¡± He groans, trying to extract the tents from the depths of the bag. ¡°This was so easy before, what the fuck.¡±

    Heading over, you open your mouth to offer your assistance when he falls backward, tent in hand. ¡°Ha!¡± He exclaims victoriously, ¡°Suck on that!¡± You try to stifle your laughter but he hears you anyway, turning around with a shit-eating grin on his face. ¡°Hey, bud! This one¡¯s yours.¡±

    You bow lowly, ¡°Thank you, kind sir.¡±

    He cackles and claps you on the back, ¡°You see, that¡¯s why I like you, Flash. You¡¯re a riot.¡±

    Blushing, you smile shyly at him and take the tent from his gloved hands. He turns to pull the next two out of the pack and you walk over to where you set down your bundle of supplies.

    After the hike from the bunker, you¡¯re pretty much an expert when it comes to tent assembly, and you put yours up quickly. Harley struggles, so you offer her a helping hand. You erect her tent near yours and she thanks you with a big grin, gathering her armload of supplies and ducking into her tent. You do the same.

    You sit in your tent for a moment, organizing all your toiletries and clothes. An idea strikes you and you climb out of the tent, wandering over to the canopy tent, intent on finding something to sleep on. After some digging, you find a lime green sleeping bag and two pillows. You deliver one of the pillows to Harley and take the bag and other pillow to your tent.

    Now it feels complete, and you smile to yourself.

    After relaxing for a few minutes you emerge from your tent once again, following your nose down to the firepit where Connor is trying to pop popcorn in a frying pan. The acrid scent of burnt kernels makes you a little nauseas.

    Gently pushing him aside, you take over, dumping out all the burnt kernels and transferring the intact ones to a lidded pot with some oil. Connor complains good-naturedly, teasing you for being a ¡®master chef¡¯.

    The popcorn is delicious and you all munch down happily. Dave is tossing pieces into Connor¡¯s mouth, and doing a damn good job of it¡ªConnor only misses one piece.

    Everyone, save Captain of course, celebrates Harley¡¯s rebirth with white wine. When Dave reveals the half-full bottle of Moscato like an offering to the Oracle, you can¡¯t help but grin, filling your chipped Yankees mug with sweet nectar. You toast, clinking the mismatched glassware together and losing yourselves in the saturnalia.

    Connor sings while everyone claps in rhythm, Dave dancing clumsily while Captain stalks up the hill. Harley joins Connor in song with her husky voice, stumbling over the words but grinning the entire time.

    It¡¯s dark before you know it but you don¡¯t mind. The crackling fire illuminates the firepit with an ethereal glow, and if you¡¯re being honest you¡¯re a fan of the aesthetic.

    The five of you finish the bottle of wine quickly, all buzzed but not quite drunk. Intent to remedy this, Connor whips out a secret bottle of Hennessy, determined to enjoy the night to the fullest. Everyone laughs and cheers and gulps the liquor down.

    Sana pulls a deck of cards out from¡­ somewhere, and suggests a drinking game. Everyone agrees and she sets up Ring of Fire. No one can quite remember the rules so you make them up, which turns out to be a lot more fun anyway.

    ¡°What¡¯s one mean?¡± You ask dumbly, realizing a beat too late that it¡¯s an ace not a one.

    ¡°Gun!¡± Shouts Connor and you laugh as he pretends to shoot you with his fingers.

    You dramatically grasp your abdomen, ¡°Oh no! You got me!¡± Fighting to keep a smile off your face, you flop into the dirt, making obscene choking sounds as Connor laughs so hard he wheezes.

    ¡°I guess one is gun now, but you have to outdo Flash¡¯s academy award-winning performance,¡± Sana quips through her giggles. Laughter envelops the firepit as everyone agrees, watching on as Dave draws a card. He holds up a five. There is silence as you all try to come up with something funny.

    After a moment, Harley suggests, ¡°Jive?¡± Dave cackles, standing up and doing the goofiest dance moves you think you¡¯ve ever seen. He reminds you of a white dad at a barbeque.

    Realistically, even between the five of you, it¡¯s very likely that no one remembered a single real Ring of Fire rule. That doesn¡¯t matter much anyway¡ªthe point of Ring of Fire is to laugh your ass off and drink, and you¡¯ve all done plenty of that.

    Soon enough, there are five drunk idiots stumbling around camp, trying to find their beds in the scant moonlight.

    You barely manage to collapse in your tent, falling asleep right on top of your lime green sleeping bag.

    oOo

    You awaken when your stomach rolls, nausea making you curl up into a ball. When it becomes clear to even your ethanol-laden brain that you need to empty your stomach, you manage to tell up from down long enough to sit up.

    It¡¯s dark out still, so you figure it¡¯s the middle of the night. The moon casts her pale light across camp and you manage to spot a thick bush.

    Clambering out of the empty tent, you stumble over to the bush and puke into it. Bile and congealed booze pass your lips and you choke. Collapsing onto all fours, you retch until nothing but saliva drips from your gaping mouth. You really should¡¯ve drank some water instead of that obscene amount of who-knows-how-old Hennessy.

    Flopping onto the cool grass, you hold your head in your hands, dizzy beyond belief.

    After a few minutes of stillness, the ground feels solid beneath you, and you manage to stand. You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand and wander back into camp.

    Your head is spinning and your eyes are half closed but you make it into a tent nonetheless, unceremoniously flopping down next to a pink sleeping bag and passing out once again.

 Chapter 6 - What Good are You?

    You awaken with a splitting headache to an annoyed Captain violently shaking you. You crack yours eyes open and they look pissed.

    ¡°Huh?¡± You slur out, head lolling to the side, ¡°Wha happen?¡±

    Captain¡¯s clenched jaw would normally tell you all you needed to know, but you¡¯re hungover and confused so you don¡¯t notice. ¡°Why the fuck are you in my tent?¡± They demand, eyes blazing.

    Squinting, you look around the tent. All the tents look the same and you¡¯re still a little drunk, so you focus your eyes back on Captain, whose fingers are digging into your triceps.

    ¡°This isn¡¯t mine?¡±

    ¡°No.¡±

    ¡°Oh¡­¡±

    Turning red, you scuttle out of the tent quickly but not gracefully, almost bumping into Sana in the process. She looks about as good as you feel, hijab wrinkled and eyes bloodshot, mug of what smells like coffee in hand.

    She grunts at you and continues on her journey, unruffled by your near collision. You wonder if she¡¯s always like that in the morning.

    The scent of coffee is more pertinent right now, you decide, and you follow your nose down to the firepit, where Connor is crouched over a coffee percolator on the fire. Dave is perched on the unusually flat log, wrapped in a large purple comforter like a nun. He looks dead, with his face pale and eyes screwed shut. Poor dude.

    Connor, ever the enigma, seems to be in high spirits, whistling as he removes the percolator from the flames and pours the liquid gold into three chipped mugs. Standing up, he passes one to Dave, who grunts his thanks. ¡°Want some?¡± He asks you with a toothy grin, and you nod enthusiastically, which makes you a little dizzy.

    G-d, you really should¡¯ve known better. What kind of idiot drinks until they can¡¯t stand?

    Coffee in hand, you settle down on the log next to Dave. He doesn¡¯t acknowledge you but you don¡¯t expect him to. The coffee is surprisingly good, and you gulp it down gratefully, grinning at Connor. You really don¡¯t know how he does it.

    It¡¯s late morning by the time everyone is down by the firepit and coherent enough for conversation, but still the silence lingers. It feels heavy but not smothering¡ªexhaustion colors every breath with shades of static.

    ¡°We were supposed to spend today gatherin¡¯ supplies and shit but that¡¯s out the window now, ain¡¯t it?¡± Dave chuckles, voice hoarse. Everyone grumbles in agreement.

    Connor laughs softly, ¡°I think we can get away with it because nobody¡¯s back yet. Jian would¡¯ve given us an earful if they knew we got that fucked up.¡±

    Sana and Dave both nod emphatically, leading you to wonder what kind of person this Jian is. Will you like them? You sure hope so, you¡¯re going to spend the rest of your life with this person as a campmate.

    ¡°I think maybe we should try to do something today, I don¡¯t want to waste time feeling sick,¡± Harley suggests, drawing an affectionate smile from Dave, who agrees. Your queasy stomach and pounding head give you pause but you agree that you should try to do something.

    ¡°What are you idiots going to be able to do while that hungover?¡± Quips Captain as they approach the firepit, approaching the lean-to and digging around for some breakfast.

    Everyone collectively ignores them.

    Captain huffs but says nothing more, probably annoyed that they were ignored. They take a handful of granola and, with nary a glance for everyone at the firepit, stalk back up the hill.

    ¡°Maybe we could do laundry? I know it¡¯s Electra¡¯s turn but she deserves a break,¡± Connor suggests, namedropping another person you don¡¯t know. At least she sounds nice.

    Sana nods but adds, ¡°We don¡¯t need everyone to do laundry, though, so perhaps someone could reorganize the lean-to? It¡¯s so messy in there I can never find anything I need.¡±

    ¡°I think you¡¯re on to somethin¡¯, Sana. Who wants to organize our food?¡± Dave asks, surveying the others with a scrutinizing squint. No one moves. ¡°Alright, then. Flash? You wanna do it? You¡¯re the one who¡¯s gonna be usin¡¯ it the most, after all.¡±

    You shrug. He laughs. ¡°All yours, then.¡±

    If you¡¯re being honest with yourself, you¡¯re glad to organize the lean-to¡ªyou find organization very relaxing. Plus, this gives you a chance to fix those cans that bothered you before. This is a win-win if you¡¯ve ever seen one.

    You pull everything out and separate them by food type, humming absent mindedly to yourself as your fingers dance over cans and boxes. Taking your time, you restack all the goodies, making a special place for all of Sana¡¯s spices.

    When it comes down to it, you don¡¯t really rearrange the food all that much. Upon looking at your finished, organized lean-to, you realize it¡¯s not much different from what you started with. It¡¯s less messy, sure, but essentially the same. Connor, Dave, and Sana are impressed so you guess you did a good job.

    You¡¯re hungry but you dare not eat¡ªnausea loves to rear her ugly head when you least expect it. The others seem to be very much in the same state of mind, eyeballing the lean-to but saying nothing.

    Lunch time comes and goes with no one save Captain speaking of food. They side-eye you and ask if they can whip something up, and you give them the go ahead. It saves you the trouble. Plus, you¡¯re not sure if you could even handle the smell of food right now.

    Dave and Connor get the fire going again while Captain decides what to make. Watching Connor whistle while he stacks sticks makes you wonder if he¡¯s impervious to hangovers, like some kind of liquor god. Honestly, you wouldn¡¯t put it passed him.

    Dave is less a liquor god and more a hangover patron saint¡ªhe¡¯s been sneaking off periodically to throw up in the bushes and the bags under his eyes are so purple they look fake.

    By the end of what should have been lunch, the lean-to is organized and the laundry is done. Cap is off doing¡­ something, and the rest of you are sitting awkwardly around the firepit in silence once again.

    ¡°What do we do now?¡± Connor asks and everyone shrugs. ¡°That¡¯s what I thought.¡±

    Dave sighs, ¡°This kinda sucks, no? I wish we had a TV.¡± G-d. What you wouldn¡¯t give for a TV right now.

    ¡°What would we even watch? I doubt we could all agree on something,¡± Sana quips after a moment, bringing up a valid concern¡ªone magical property of the television is that it always incites disagreements.

    Or, you guess, it used to.

    ¡°I can¡¯t remember a single TV show that wasn¡¯t shit,¡± Connor complains.

    ¡°I can¡¯t remember a single TV show,¡± You say casually, drawing deep laughter from the man. There is no better feeling than making Connor laugh, and you bask in it.

    Dave and Connor, the only two who can remember any TV show titles, go back and forth for some time. A lot of the names evoke deep emotion but you can¡¯t actually remember anything about them. The rush of simultaneous affection and disgust you get when Connor says ¡®Diners, Drive-Ins, and Dives¡¯ really throws you off. What could possibly make you feel that way?

    Why can¡¯t you stop thinking about button down shirts with flames on them?

    Many long minutes trickle by in silence, which grinds on your nerves more than it normally does. Realistically, you¡¯re gonna spend every day of the rest of your life with these people¡ªhow will you survive if none of you can think of anything to say? Are you doomed to die of boredom?You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

    That is, perhaps, a little dramatic, but you feel that way nonetheless.

    Eyeing the others, you realize they¡¯re in very much the same boat as you. Maybe practice will make perfect by the time you die.

    As awkward as it is, it¡¯s kind of nice to know that everyone else is as uncomfortable as you are. About fucking time.

    You huff and cross your arms. Dave raises a sardonic eyebrow at you, ¡°Somethin¡¯ wrong, Flash? You not enjoyin¡¯ sittin¡¯ around in awkward silence?¡± This comment effectively dissolves the tension, and chuckles ripple across the firepit.

    ¡°Dave?¡± Sana hums with her hand on her chin.

    ¡°Hmn?¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t you have a bunch of books? You said something about practicing our reading skills so that might keep us busy for a while,¡± She suggests somewhat blandly, dark brown eyes trained on Dave¡¯s now grinning face.

    Dave stands and leans over Sana, grabbing her face, ¡°Oh, my dear Sana, you¡¯re a genius!¡± He punctuates his declaration with a chaste but enthusiastic kiss on Sana¡¯s cheek.

    ¡°Oh, stop!¡± She coos, gently pushing him away. If you didn¡¯t know better you¡¯d say she was quite pleased with herself and Dave¡¯s reaction. Your focus doesn¡¯t stay on her long when you realize Connor is nowhere to be seen and Dave is almost vibrating with excitement.

    He cracks his knuckles and announces, ¡°So, newbies, I haven¡¯t said anything about readin¡¯ yet but now¡¯s as good a time as any. Connor and I realized pretty quickly that while our memories faded, our skills did not, and that includes readin¡¯. All of you should still know how to read right now. But as time goes on, now that y¡¯all¡¯re awake, you¡¯ll lose that skill if you don¡¯t practice. Literacy is an objectively useful skill, even after the apocalypse¡ªhow¡¯re we supposed to communicate, read signs, read labels on food, etcetera, if we ain¡¯t literate?¡±

    ¡°And so, we read!¡± Connor declares, approaching the firepit with a big crate of books in his arms.

    Despite Connor¡¯s enthused announcement, everyone spends the afternoon digging through the crate and trying to guess the plot of books based on their titles alone instead of doing any actual reading. Dave seems annoyed but unsurprised by this result¡ªyou assume this has happened before.

    Most of the books are paperbacks salvaged from bunkers, with yellow pages and curled covers. Besides a 1992 sports almanac and a biography of Richard Nixon, the books are all fiction, which strikes you as odd. Why wouldn¡¯t people take useful books into their bunkers?

    Also, who the hell thought they would need a 1992 sports almanac? There are books from 2014 in here, so that was outdated even before the war.

    ¡°There are no books here that were printed after 2014¡ªwhen do you think the war started?¡± You ask Dave. You know that they don¡¯t know what year it is now but it¡¯s possible they know the timeline of the war.

    Dave shoots you a pleased look, ¡°Very observant, Flash! As far as we can tell, the war started in early 2015 and ended in mid 2017. Some of the bunkers had journals in ¡®em, and they all ended in June of 2017, so we think that¡¯s probably when the gas hit. We haven¡¯t seen anythin¡¯ dated later than that. I¡¯d say it¡¯s maybe 2020 now but we have no way of knowin¡¯ for sure.¡±

    Nodding, you turn back to your excavation of the book crate, digesting the information. If you¡¯re being honest, these books seem older than they should if it¡¯s only been a few years since the war ended.

    You tune out Connor¡¯s enthusiastic guess at what happens in ¡®The Scarlet Letter¡¯ to read the Richard Nixon biography, intrigued by the man¡¯s jowls and what the world was like all those years ago.

    As it turns out, you don¡¯t get very far, reading only a few pages before a large raindrop hits your nose. You tilt your head back and gape at the dark clouds¡ªhow had you not noticed them? Dave springs to his feet and hastily collects the books, except yours which you shove under your shirt, returning them to his tent to save them from the rain.

    It drizzles for a few moments and then stops as suddenly as it started. None of you move. You and Connor share a shrewd look, equally put off by the fickle clouds.

    How annoying is that? Dave rushed to protect the books from what, a millimeter of rain?

    The sun is obscured by the viscous layer of nimbus, but her warmth remains, settling over you like a heavy fog. It feels wet, almost¡ªlike the air itself is pregnant with dew from the heights of Olympus.

    You wonder what Apollo does now, shielded from the prying eyes of mortals. Perhaps he sleeps in the sopping glow, nestled in his golden chariot, leaving the sun to her own devices for a while.

    Perhaps he remains flying, dragging her behind him for naught but his own pleasure.

    Harley stands slowly and rubs at her eyes. ¡°I¡¯m gonna go take a nap, I¡¯m pretty sleepy,¡± She mumbles softly, effectively taking everyone¡¯s attention away from the weather. She meanders up the hill, followed by a chorus of ¡®good night¡¯s, and all is well.

    Camp lapses into a soft silence once again as everyone wonders what to do next. This question is¡ªthankfully?¡ªanswered with no effort from anyone at the firepit.

    ¡°WHAT¡¯S UP, BITCHES?!¡± A booming voice echoes across camp and scares the living shit out of you. You make frantic eye contact with Sana, who shakes her head desolately.

    ¡°Oh G-d, it¡¯s him,¡± She mumbles under her breath, visibly steeling herself for the arrival of the most infamous person in the camp.

    Distressed, you ask, ¡°Who? Who is it?¡± No one that they¡¯ve mentioned so far seemed worthy of such a reception from a normally sweet person. You run through all the names you know: Buck, Electra, Rowdy, Argo, and Jian. Which one could it be?

    She hisses acidly, ¡°Gio.¡± You don¡¯t know that name. ¡°Part of me hoped he would never come back, but I¡¯m never that lucky, am I?¡±

    As soon as those words leave her mouth, the man of the hour arrives, waving a purple baseball cap over his head like a flag. He¡¯s clad in the most mismatched outfit you¡¯ve ever seen¡ªand that includes Captain¡¯s bright pink flower tank tops and forest green camo shorts¡ªwith a pink and yellow Hawaiian shirt and blue and green plaid cargo shorts.

    Scanning the man, Sana¡¯s reaction seems well-deserved, you note.

    Gio is pale and freckled, with wide shoulders and a crooked nose and the most shit-eating grin you¡¯ve ever seen on a human being. He first approaches Dave and Connor, clapping each of them on the back, and then makes his clumsy way over to you and Sana.

    ¡°And who might this be?¡± He asks, eyeballing you in a way that unsettles you, ¡°Hard to believe those fools found anyone else in the middle of buttfuck Egypt.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m, uh, Flash. They found me and two others a few days ago,¡± You tell him for the sake of getting him to go away as soon as possible.

    It, of course, doesn¡¯t work out the way you want it to, as Gio is nothing short of chatty, ¡°Three newbies, huh? That ought¡¯a be fun. Where are the others? Hiding, I bet! As they should be, I¡¯m in a hazing sort of mood.¡±

    Wow. What a dick. You¡¯re already close to punching him in the nose, and it¡¯s only been about a minute. Off to a good start, yeah?

    ¡°Knock it off, Gio,¡± Sana chides gently, seemingly aware of your building rage, ¡°Did you bring anything good back from your mission?¡± You appreciate the subject change more than you can ever express with words, and you shoot Sana a grateful smile. Her eyes twinkle knowingly in response.

    ¡°You bet your sweet ass I did! That Blue Ridge Parkway is chock full of abandoned cars and shit, lots of them had some good working stuff, it was a veritable gold mine. Connor, you¡¯re gonna be psyched when you see the goodies I found.¡±

    You wonder for only a second why Gio went on his mission alone¡ªyou wouldn¡¯t want to go with him, and you expect nobody else wanted to either. He seems perfectly happy with that arrangement so it all works out, you suppose.

    Connor jumps up excitedly and barrels over to Gio¡¯s side, ¡°What¡¯d you find, man?¡±

    Gio grins and flops down onto the floor, removing his backpack and digging through its contents. ¡°There¡¯s some good shit in here, Con! Plenty of leather I ripped out of the upholstery, a bunch of stereos, plus I salvaged a lot of engine parts so I¡¯m thinking we can finally finish that AC unit,¡± He babbles as he grabs mechanical bits and lines them up in the dirt.

    You know next to nothing about machinery so you can¡¯t really describe anything better than a ¡°mechanical bit¡± but Connor seems happy, and that¡¯s what matters.

    Instead, you focus on Gio¡¯s mentioning of stereos. You wonder if any of them work, or could be made to work¡ªimagine being able to communicate with anyone else out there.

    Dave perks up at the mention of stereos, approaching Connor and leaning against his side, ¡°Do you think you¡¯d be able to get one of those stereos working? Man, that¡¯d be amazing, we could really start to rebuild with that. We could find the other groups out there, and have a real society again.¡±

    Honestly, you¡¯re not sure how pleased you are with idea of going back to the ways things were. You can¡¯t remember much of it and that¡¯s almost liberating¡ªpast society ended in apocalyptic war, maybe it¡¯s not so bad to start from scratch.

    Not wanting to rain on Dave¡¯s parade, you say nothing, but share a strange look with Sana. You make a mental note to talk to her later¡ªsomething tells you she feels the same way you do.

    Connor, Dave, and Gio go back and forth with ideas on how to make a functional radio. It¡¯s all logistics and technobabble so you tune them out.

    Your growling stomach none-too-gently informs you that it¡¯s dinnertime, so you pull Sana aside, asking her if she has any good recipes using the spices she collected. She tells you she has plenty, but you¡¯re shit out of luck if you want to use them now.

    ¡°We have no meat at the moment,¡± She explains, ¡°We have to wait until Buck, Electra, and Jian get back. Buck¡¯s our hunter so we can¡¯t really do anything until he brings game back. Most of my dishes need meat, but I have a few rice-based recipes we could try. I don¡¯t remember the details of all of them but I¡¯m sure we could figure it out together.¡±

    You grin at her and nod, ¡°We got this.¡±

    She smiles and starts listing off recipes, more excited about cooking than you originally thought she would be. It¡¯s refreshing, honestly, to have someone share an interest with you. Suddenly, you feel less alone.

    It takes a fair amount of teamwork but your combined culinary expertise eventually creates a damn good meal. Connor complains about it being too spicy but gobbles it all up with a chipped grin nonetheless, so you call that a success. He¡¯s kind of a drama queen, anyway.

    Dinner is a quiet but comfortable affair.

    Harley offers to do the dishes and you get ready for bed, more exhausted than you feel you should be. Your hangover has mostly passed but you guess you should be more understanding of your body¡ªyou gulped down a lot of poison and spewed out a lot of bile. That¡¯s enough to make anyone tired as hell.

    You consider reading but realize the sun is mere minutes away from the mountain, so you scrap that idea and just crawl right into your tent. Sleep¡¯s sounding real good right now, anyhow.

    The night is still, humming with the sounds of life. Fireflies flicker unobtrusively in the trees as Apollo slumbers beyond the stars. You slide into your sleeping bag and curl up, lulled into Hypno¡¯s loving arms by the evening breeze.

    You dream of velvet and silk.

 Chapter 7 - Distractions are Good for the Soul

    Morning comes lazily, slipping into the valley with a practiced ease. The sun is bright yet distant¡ªthe air is crisp and light. Camp is quiet until the late hours of the morning.

    You awaken gently from your soft dreams when Connor sticks his head in your tent, grin brighter than Apollo himself. ¡°Want some coffee, champ?¡± He offers benevolently, and you nod groggily, sitting up as he hands you a steaming mug of amber ichor. You wrap your fingers around the chipped ceramic Scooby Doo face and revel in its warmth.

    Eventually emerging from your tent, you bask in the sun, carrying your drink to the firepit. Dave and Con are nowhere to be seen but the others are all present, enjoying the cool touch of morning.

    Gio is tending the fire with a charred stick, whistling blithely as he pokes the logs. You¡¯d be annoyed if you didn¡¯t feel so damn well-rested. Today feels good in the marrow of your bones, and you¡¯d rather not let Gio ruin it if you can help it.

    It¡¯s a smart move. He¡¯s not really even doing anything, anyway.

    Harley and Sana are tending to each other¡¯s tangled locks as Captain watches with a strangely vested interest, laser focused on the twisting strands of hair. It admittedly alarming to see them so enraptured with something as simple as a French braid but you suppose it could be worse. They could be staring at the doctor, which is uncomfortable for everyone, especially Connor.

    Speaking of Connor, you can hear him chatting with a half-asleep Dave up the hill, the pair likely on its way to the firepit. The latter is grumbling more than responding, as he is wont to do in the mornings. Their voices are fond and familiar. You roll your shoulders and endeavor to start breakfast.

    In the back of the lean-to you easily find the box of Bisquick you squirrelled away when you organized your reserves. Now seems like as good a time as any to whip out the pancakes; it¡¯s definitely one of those kinds of mornings.

    ¡°Are you making fucking pancakes?¡± Gio asks incredulously when he lays eyes on the box you¡¯re holding.

    You raise an eyebrow¡ªit¡¯s pretty damn obvious you¡¯re making pancakes. Does he think you¡¯re holding a box of pancake mix for your health? He whistles appreciatively, blithely ignoring your judgmental stare, ¡°Fucking A, dude.¡±

    Everyone perks up at the prospect of pancakes, and you try not to be too proud of yourself. After all, there are, in fact, pancakes to be made.

    You, of course, end up quite smug about your pancakes nonetheless.

    The cast iron pan takes a long time to heat up but you distract yourself with idle chit-chat. Part of you remembers hating small talk but now, after everything, it¡¯s one of the few things that makes you feel alive.

    There¡¯s no maple syrup¡ªsomething you admittedly should¡¯ve considered before deciding to make pancakes¡ªbut you spread peanut butter on those bad boys and have a grand old time. You feel like some sort of culinary wizard.

    Connor eats his plain, you note. You wonder why.

    After breakfast, Gio, Dave, and Connor all huddle around their half-finished AC unit, intent on finally getting the tricky bastard to work. Summer is coming to an end if the cool nights and frequent gusts are anything to go by, and you think everyone would appreciate a working heater.

    Sana has a rather sizable mound of clothes to mend, or so she says, and she squirrels herself away in her tent. You wonder how much there really is.

    This leaves you, Captain, and Harley to your own devices. You¡¯re not sure what to do. You¡¯d like to be useful, but beyond your cooking skills you really have nothing to offer, you don¡¯t think. Since you woke up, you¡¯ve been getting regular directions from Dave and Connor. Autonomy is new and you¡¯re not sure how much you like it.

    Captain stalks off with a determined glint in their eye, and you decide to leave them be. You deem it best to not get involved in whatever they have planned. You are curious, though.

    Uncertain, you spend your morning bathing. Clean hair is a luxury you refuse to forgo, the apocalypse be damned, and it¡¯s about time you scrubbed the shit out of it. The east river is cold and clear and damn refreshing, the gentle current ridding your long mop of dirt and dried sweat, taking the grime downstream. You lather your hair in shampoo and pile it on top of your head, inordinately pleased when it stays up there.

    You float on your back for some time, letting the water flow into your ears. It makes you squirm but it¡¯s familiar in a way you can¡¯t begin to describe. The sun says nothing but caresses your face nonetheless.

    When you¡¯re pruney and sun tired and hopefully clean, you towel off and dress, intent on sitting in the shade with your Nixon book.

    You read in peace for a long while. Time pools around your ankles.

    Harley approaches you near lunch, nervously twirling a braid in her hand, eyes not quite meeting yours. You¡¯re not sure what you did to make her seem so afraid of you, but you berate yourself anyway. How dare you strike the fear of G-d into an angel.

    ¡°Um¡­¡± She begins softly, exhaling deeply before continuing, ¡°I was thinking maybe we could go out and see what kinds of plants are around here. Maybe we could start a garden.¡±

    You smile widely at her, determined to prove she has nothing to fear, ¡°That sounds great! We can¡¯t rely on boxed food forever. Let¡¯s see what Dave knows before we head out, he might be able to tell us what to look for.¡±

    ¡°Okay cool!¡± She squeaks, relief oozing from her pores.

    Dave is still huddled over the AC unit with Gio and Connor, hunched over with his back to you, mouth moving a mile a minute was the other two fiddle with the machine. You trod over and clear your throat, prompting Dave to turn and meet your eyes.

    ¡°Hey, Flash,¡± He greets you warmly, ¡°What can I do for ya?¡±

    ¡°What kind of edible plants grow around here?¡± You ask, Harley hovering nervously behind you.

    ¡°Ah,¡± Dave grimaces as he stands, cracks his back, and brushes off his pants, ¡°We¡­ Don¡¯t really know. We¡¯ve found blueberries, strawberries, and raspberries, but other than those we¡¯re havin¡¯ a hard time figurin¡¯ out what¡¯s safe to eat and what ain¡¯t. I wish we knew but we just can¡¯t risk anybody gettin¡¯ sick. Rowdy¡¯s been talkin¡¯ about a farm but we can¡¯t start it if we don¡¯t know what¡¯s edible.¡±

    You nod and wonder if you might be able to recognize anything, but you highly doubt it. You¡¯re pretty sure you¡¯re not from around here. Plus, you don¡¯t think culinary school has a ¡°Can You Eat This Weed?¡± class.

    A soft noise erupts from Harley and you and Dave both look at her, mildly startled. ¡°I, um¡­ I think I can help.¡±

    ¡°Oh?¡± Dave replies, eyebrows raised and interested piqued. ¡°Do you know a lot about plants?¡±

    She turns beet red, ¡°Yeah, um, plants are kind of¡­ my thing. I can probably tell you the scientific name of every single plant we¡¯ve seen so far. I, um¡­ like plants.¡±

    Dave grins, asking if there are in fact any plants nearby that we can use to bolster our food supply. He is laser focused on Harley and it makes her squirm.

    ¡°Yeah, I think so,¡± She mumbles, ¡°I need a closer look to be sure but there seem to be a lot of fruit and nut trees around here. Plenty of them are edible.¡± Dave is beyond overjoyed when he hears this. He claps Harley on the shoulder and turns to grin at Connor, who is grinning that chipped grin right back.

    It¡¯s not particularly surprising that he was listening in. He¡¯s a nosy bastard.

    Dave and Connor exchange a few words before Dave rounds on you and Harley, ¡°So, is that what y¡¯all wanna do today? Winter¡¯s just around the corner so Con needs to help Gio with the heater but y¡¯all are more than welcome to go out lookin¡¯ for plants.¡±

    ¡°It might be a good use of our time,¡± You agree, nodding at Dave and smiling softly at Harley. ¡°You comin¡¯ with us, Dave?¡±

    He shrugs and schleps over to Connor, kissing him on the cheek and bidding him good bye before heading up the hill to nab a few items.

    You think about the kiss just long enough to dismiss it¡ªDave¡¯s Latino, and they all kiss each other¡¯s cheeks in greetings and farewells. You¡¯ve known a lot a Latinos in your life, so it doesn¡¯t strike you as out of the ordinary.If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

    One manly shoulder clap from Con later and you and Harley are on your way, trudging into the forest with naught but an empty backpack and a canteen of water. This is just an exploratory mission after all¡ªa journey into the final frontier. You¡¯re not climbing Mount Everest here, so you don¡¯t need much in the way of supplies.

    Dave lags behind, speaking lowly to Gio and Connor, before eventually catching up.

    Say what you will about hiking and nature, but you can¡¯t deny your enjoyment of this excursion. Harley is clearly in her element, rattling off the scientific names of every plant she sees, collecting bits of ones she deems edible and storing them in the backpack you¡¯re wearing. It¡¯s admittedly fun watching her get excited about every tree and fern.

    It also gives you something to distract you from your sweaty, cumbersome body.

    You tune everything out for a while as you stumble through the trees. The sun is overbearing, hanging high in the sky as she is. The air is thick and muggy and you¡¯re not sure what to do with your hands. You wipe them on your shorts but it does nothing to rid them of the sweat.

    ¡°¡­and I think we have some good options, lots of edible¡­¡±

    Insects whizz by your head and you swat at them, but never seem to make contact.

    ¡°¡­allergies? That¡¯s my concern because¡­¡±

    Bird calls echo more than they should. Water trickles somewhere nearby, but you¡¯re not sure it¡¯s real.

    ¡°¡­worry because it¡¯s uncommon, but I guess it¡¯s¡­¡±

    Your toe hits a rock and you faceplant, arms reacting too slowly to stop your fall. Dave and Harley are at your side in seconds.

    ¡°You good, man?¡± Dave asks, eyes scanning your body for injury, in full doctor mode.

    You laugh and rise to your feet, ¡°I¡¯m fine, Dave. I just wasn¡¯t looking where I was going.¡± His concern warms you, and you once again feel so lucky to have met him.

    He nods but doesn¡¯t stop checking you, hands gently poking and prodding, Harley watching owlishly but saying nothing.

    Soon enough he¡¯s shaking his head, ¡°You¡¯re fine, I concede. Just be more careful, huh?¡± He¡¯s not exactly chiding you but you feel chided all the same. Your cheeks flush and you studiously avoid his eyes, dusting off your shorts with jerky movements.

    You pay attention after that, listening to the two bond over Science Shit and watching your feet very closely. The ground is firm and littered with leaves and small patches of grass, which you admire in a strangely nostalgic way¡ªit reminds you of the weeds pushing through the cracks of concrete sidewalks, the little ones that always made your heart melt a little.

    A strange indent in the dirt distracts you from your reverie and you stoop down to take a closer look. It¡¯s a hoof print. You rear back to your full height and realize there¡¯s a trail of them. Glancing back to the others, you see them crouched over a bush, and decide you can get away with indulging your curiosity.

    The trail is winding but ultimately easy to follow, and the farther you follow it, the louder the sound of rushing water becomes. It must be another stream, you figure.

    When you reach the stream, you freeze in awe, mouth hanging open. A large buck is drinking calmly with its eyes closed, seemingly oblivious to your presence. You slouch and stare at the creature.

    You want to approach it, to stroke its glistening chestnut fur, but you remain still. If you move, if that buck sees you, this moment will be shattered.

    As it turns out, the moment is shattered by no effort or movement of your own. One second, the buck is peacefully hydrating, and the next, it is collapsed on the bank. You wonder what happened just long enough for the animal¡¯s blood to seep into the water.

    You probably should¡¯ve noticed the spear sticking out of its neck before you noticed the blood but hey, nobody¡¯s perfect.

    The spear is short and dark brown, with the blade secured to the shaft with dried vines. Who made it? How long did it take? What¡¯s it made out of? How hard do you have to throw it for it to kill such a large buck in one hit?

    More importantly, who the hell threw it?

    That question is answered when a man emerges from the trees. He is shirtless and covered in mud, but his clear blue eyes are piercing even from a distance thanks to the dark smudging surrounding them. He looks at you and you almost pee yourself right in front of him.

    Behind you, Dave and Harley arrive, but you don¡¯t turn to face them. Your eyes remain locked on the wild man.

    ¡°Buck!¡± Dave greets warmly, waving at the mud-caked man, ¡°Looks like you snagged a big one huh?¡±

    The man¡ªBuck, you guess¡ªsmiles the tiniest little smile you¡¯ve ever seen at Dave, ¡°Yeah, should keep us fed for a few weeks. Gotta skin it and shit, so we probably won¡¯t be back until late tonight.¡± You wonder why he said ¡°we¡±.

    ¡°Okay, sounds good. Are Electra and Jian gettin¡¯ along? I know those two can butt heads.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s goin¡¯ about as well as ya think, but they ain¡¯t much trouble.¡±

    Dave grins and shakes his head fondly, ¡°As long as they¡¯re not at each other¡¯s throats then I¡¯m happy. I¡¯m sure you can handle ¡®em. Anyway, this is Flash and Harley, we found ¡®em not too long ago. Guys, this is Buck. He handles our huntin¡¯ and all that woodsy, macho shit.¡±

    ¡°Woodsy, macho shit?¡± You echo, raising an eyebrow at Buck.

    He holds his hands up in surrender, ¡°Apparently.¡± He appears completely slave to Dave¡¯s whims, and you can¡¯t really judge him for that.

    ¡°Straight guys like that all that shit,¡± Dave says dismissively, already turning to walk back the way you came, ¡°So we¡¯ll see ya later, Buck, we got plants to look at.¡± Harley waves happily at Buck before following after Dave like a dutiful puppy.

    You hang back to share a long, intense look with Buck. You blush. He nods at you before kneeling to deal with his kill. You leave.

    Catching up with Dave is easy, and he laughs when you approach. You grin at the back of his head and continue to follow through the thickets. He and Harley easily fall back into their scientific expedition but your mind drifts back to Buck.

    He looked so¡­ powerful, like that. Pale skin caked in mud and spare spear in his hand, eyes piercing, he looked almost feral¡ªa true caveman if you ever did see one. Honestly, seeing him so raw was kind of hot.

    Yikes. That might make life at camp a little difficult if you get hot under the collar over a man covered in mud.

    You suddenly feel like an ancient, surviving off the fat of the land despite how little Mother Gaia wants you there. All things considered, you really are living as the ancients once did¡ªwhat¡¯s changed? The fact that you have books instead of cave paintings? The fact that you eat deer meat with hamburger helper instead of just charred meat on a stick?

    It¡¯s all the same. It¡¯s all always been the same. This realization should feel liberating but it¡¯s suffocating more than anything else. What meaning did life have then?

    What meaning does life have now?

    G-d, you really need to stop philosophizing, you¡¯re gonna make yourself sick. That is, if you haven¡¯t already.

    Shaking your head, you tune back in to Harley and Dave¡¯s babbling, and realize you still have absolutely no clue what they¡¯re on about. At least that hasn¡¯t changed.

    Ultimately, you return to camp with a backpack full of plant bits and brain full of no more knowledge than you left with. Y¡¯know, besides the crushing knowledge that you¡¯re attracted to wild white boys covered in mud. That¡¯s something that you promise to keep to yourself.

    Dinner rolls around and you make more rice, limited as you are until Buck comes back with more meat. Despite the fact that you spent most of the day hunting for edible plants, you still end up with nothing but rice and canned green beans to cook with. Captain loudly complains but you ignore them.

    It¡¯s Connor who slaps you on the back and thanks you for dinner, making you turn pink and stammer like a middle schooler who just talked to their crush for the first time. Connor is just¡­ incredible, and you feel so lucky to know him, to share your life with him. Dave follows his partner¡¯s lead and thanks you as well, and you feel the same emotion run over you¡ªthese two men saved your life, and here they are thanking you for just not burning the rice and opening three cans of green beans. It all seems kind of backwards to you, but you won¡¯t look a gift horse in the mouth.

    After dinner, you retire to the strangely flat log. The others join you, sitting around the firepit as Gio gets the fire roaring, in comfortable silence.

    ¡°So, Dave, Connor,¡± Harley breaks the silence gently, conversationally, ¡°How¡¯d you two meet? Seems lucky that you two are such good friends, if you were the first ones to wake up.¡±

    Sana huffs a laugh, ¡°You mean you haven¡¯t told them? Typical.¡± She somehow manages to adjust her hijab in a haughty manner, leaving you to marvel at how a simple movement could be so judgmental.

    ¡°Ignore her,¡± Dave says dismissively with an eyeroll. He must¡¯ve noticed her not-so-subtle jab and cockiness.

    ¡°We met entirely by accident two years ago,¡± Connor starts, cutting off Sana¡¯s chance to defend herself, ¡°And it was incredibly lucky. Even now I thank Allah that it happened, that I was found by the most incredible man I¡¯ve ever met.¡± The look he shoots at Dave makes you melt. ¡°I woke up alone in a bunker many miles north of here. I wasn¡¯t shaken or yelled at, like the rest of you were, I just simply woke up, as if from a long nap.  It took hours for me to be able to walk, but I eventually did it, and I wandered outside. I explored the surrounding area and realized I was alone in the wilderness, so I did what made the most sense to me, and made camp.

    ¡°I scavenged parts from the bunker and built the best camp I could. My memories were few and far between, so it was difficult for me to even remember what kinds of food I liked. I accidentally ate peanuts and almost died because I couldn¡¯t remember I was allergic to them!

    ¡°For weeks I was alone, wondering if it was just me out there. I started getting cabin fever even though I was free to go and do whatever I wanted, and I feared that I would die a madman, alone in the wilderness. I figured that since no one else in my bunker woke up, or even could be woken up, that I would never see another human as long as I lived. What was the likelihood of someone else randomly waking up? And if someone else did wake up, what was the likelihood that they would be anywhere near me? Allah, however, had plans for me. I should¡¯ve figured.

    ¡°One day, I heard rustling on the outskirts of my camp. Until that point, I hadn¡¯t seen even a single animal larger than a squirrel, and whatever was lumbering its way toward my camp was definitely bigger than a damn squirrel. I panic and yell out for the intruder to stay away. Now, you can imagine the fear I felt when a buck naked person burst out of the trees and tried to hug me.

    ¡°After giving Dave a bloody nose, we eventually start talking and introduced ourselves, and we¡¯ve been together ever since,¡± Connor concludes with a goofy grin on his face. He looks absolutely smitten and you hope you can be like him one day, so incredibly happy to be alive.

    Dave laughs, ¡°Well, that¡¯s when we started traveling together. We figured that we were probably the only two people awake, and thought, hey, why be alone when we could be together. It was his idea to head south for its warmer climate, and my idea to wake people up along the way. We had been traveling together for about a year when we finally managed to wake anybody up.  It was Rowdy, alone in a bunker in Massachusetts.¡±

    Huh. Fancy that.

    You stand to grab a drink when the rustling of nearby trees snags your attention, making the hair on the back of your neck stand up, and you notice Connor tense up as well.

    He makes a shushing gesture and the firepit is shrouded in silence. The rustling grows louder, seemingly closer, and you watch as he stands warily in front of Dave. Whatever¡¯s making that noise, Connor is ready to protect his partner from it. That makes you smile, despite the tension.

    ¡°Wait¡­¡± Dave says, comically elbowing Connor out of the way, ¡°I know those footsteps!¡±

 Chapter 8 - Turmoil and Tears

    As it turns out, the footsteps belong to a tall skinny girl with pitch black hair and almond shaped eyes. She¡¯s grinning ear-to-ear and running into Dave¡¯s open arms as soon as she steps foot into camp.

    ¡°Dave!¡± She cries, vibrating loudly with excitement, ¡°We got so much done on our adventure! Buck was so cool when he killed all those rabbits and that deer and Jian¡¯s map is coming out so well it looks like it came from a book!! Jian was kind of mean to me during the trip but I saved them from falling into the river yesterday so they¡¯ve been real nice to me since. I missed you guys!¡±

    Dave grins hugely at her, ¡°Electra! We missed you too! I¡¯m glad to see y¡¯all¡¯re safe, and that y¡¯all¡¯re gettin¡¯ on better. God knows the two a ya can butt heads something awful.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s just because Jian¡¯s such a killjoy. They¡¯re, like, allergic to having fun.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t think that¡¯s true,¡± He scolds her gently with a poorly concealed shit-eating grin on his face, ¡°You haven¡¯t seen them take b-ball shots at the garbage.¡±

    With an equally shit-eating grin on her face, she scoffs, ¡°Oh, I¡¯ve seen them. I just think you have to be good at it for it to be fun.¡±

    Connor bursts out laughing at that, wrapping her up in a massive bear hug, ¡°Roasted! Damn, E, I missed having you around. Camp¡¯s been way too quiet without you.¡±

    ¡°I figured it would be plenty loud with Gio back,¡± She quips, not missing a beat, sticking her tongue out over Connor¡¯s shoulder at the insulted and spluttering Gio. Things definitely seem more exciting now that she¡¯s here.

    Electra trots up the hill to drop off her backpack, leaving you and the others to your echoing laughter. More rustling makes you turn your head, and when you do, you see another person emerge from the thickets. You figure that it must be Jian, because it¡¯s certainly not Buck.

    They¡¯re dark skinned and pudgy, wearing basketball shorts that are way too big for them and scowling like someone killed their dog. You wonder if they heard Electra making fun of them.

    ¡°Hey, Jian!¡± Dave greets them with a perky little wave, ¡°Anything to report?¡±

    They snort derisively, ¡°Nothing exciting, bro, that¡¯s for sure. Map¡¯s coming along okay, so I guess the trip wasn¡¯t a complete waste. Buck got some game too, so it¡¯s all good in the hood, man.¡±

    Their voice is pinched and nasally, which immediately grates on your nerves. The way they speak like a particularly stupid frat boy certainly doesn¡¯t help, either, and you have to resist the urge to massage your temples. That¡¯d be a bit rude.

    ¡°Who¡¯re these assholes?¡± Jian asks, gesturing towards you and Harley with stubby fingers. They look distinctly unimpressed.

    Connor shakes his head, toothy grin on full display, ¡°C¡¯mon, Jian, play nice! That¡¯s Flash and Harley, we found them on our little excursion to buttfuck Egypt.¡±

    ¡°Hard to believe you found anybody.¡±

    ¡°Gio said the same thing! Honestly, ye of little faith. You guys suck.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not even that, it¡¯s just been years since you found anybody. You found almost all of us within, what, a week of each other? Except for Rowdy? Seems unlikely that you¡¯d find anyone else after all this time. That¡¯s not how things usually work.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s a fair point,¡± Dave chimes in, curling his arm around Connor¡¯s back, ¡°If I¡¯m bein¡¯ entirely honest, I didn¡¯t think we¡¯d find nobody, either.¡±

    Connor pouts at Dave¡¯s words but says nothing, and his silence speaks for itself, piquing your interest in the process. It seems really strange that they found everybody else in the span of a week. Why are you any different?

    Why did you wake up, and not somebody else?

    Perhaps they would have been better off if it wasn¡¯t you who woke up. Perhaps another could serve a better purpose, could take better care of the saviors. Alas, you will never know, and believe me when I tell you it is better that way. It is what it is.

    Quite arrogant of you to ignore that Harley and Captain woke up when you did. They may have a vital role to play in due time, although you find yourself questioning Captain¡¯s ability to service anyone but themself and maybe Dave.

    Suddenly, in the ensuing silence, a realization hits you, ¡°Where¡¯s Buck?¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s not here already? Lazy bastard,¡± Jian rolls their eyes, already halfway up the hill. They don¡¯t say anything else and they disappear, ostensibly to put their stuff away, although you can¡¯t be sure. You guess you shouldn¡¯t be concerned if they aren¡¯t.

    You turn to Dave, who shrugs at you, and Connor, who wiggles his eyebrows at you. You¡¯re not sure why he does that but his face contorts hilariously when he does it so you¡¯re happy. He¡¯s a goofy man and you love him for it.

    A few minutes pass while Connor makes faces at you like you¡¯re an infant and you giggle, also like you¡¯re an infant. Buck does eventually make an appearance, carrying a large garbage bag over one shoulder and his spears in the opposite fist.

    He¡¯s still shirtless and your mouth goes dry.

    ¡°And there¡¯s the man of the hour!¡± Connor greets him only somewhat sarcastically, ¡°The big game hunter himself!¡± Buck¡¯s knees don¡¯t buckle under Connor¡¯s obviously forceful slap on the back, and it makes him that much sexier to you. You got it bad, sister, and I can¡¯t do anything for you.

    Buck shrugs almost too modestly, ¡°It¡¯s whatever. Pretty big kill, so I won¡¯t have to go out for a while. I¡¯m gonna take it to the lean-to.¡±

    ¡°I, uh¡ª¡± You start, surprising even yourself, ¡°Uh¡­ I do the cooking now. So I can, uh, take that from you. Go ahead and rest or¡­ something.¡± You blush darker and darker with every word that leaves your mouth. Why do you do these things to yourself, you¡¯re so fucking embarrassing.

    Connor is visibly shaking from restrained laughter and you suddenly want to be swallowed up by the earth. Buck smiles softly at you and you suddenly want to reemerge from the depths. ¡°Awesome, thanks. Flash, right?¡± He speaks so sweetly it makes you a bit nauseas.

    ¡°Yeah, I¡¯m Flash! That¡¯s me! Just let me just go right ahead and grab this so you can go on and settle in,¡± You chatter, reaching forward to nab the garbage bag and brushing Buck¡¯s fingers in the process. You blush darker but do not falter.

    Dave and Connor seem impressed by your coordination, watching you with two pairs of much too mischievous eyes. You endeavor to never speak to them ever again, lest they make fun of you. Good luck with that.

    Buck nods at you and heads up the hill, shoving his hands in the pockets of his camouflage cargo shorts as he walks. You feel like the fact that he wears camo cargos should immediately make him unattractive to you but, alas, it doesn¡¯t work that way.

    You spend the rest of the day steadily ignoring both your feelings and your saviors with the help of the deer carcass. It takes time to butcher and preserve, and you relish the opportunity to do some hard, distracting work.

    Venison is on the menu for dinner, of course, and everything you don¡¯t use gets smoked or dried. Sana and Connor help you out once the latter promises to button his lip.

    He doesn¡¯t entirely keep his promise, but his jabs are veiled and well-intentioned enough that you let it slide. The two of you bathe at the same time, and he offers to was your back as a form of silent apology.

    For an hour or so after dinner, camp is full of laughter as Gio and Connor argue loudly about whether or not it¡¯s okay to give a river a person name. The debate lasts longer than you expected, and eventually ends when Dave stands, announces that the east river will now be called ¡®Pickles¡¯, and then whirls off to bed.

    ¡°Damn, he outdid us,¡± Gio pouts, crossing his arms and glaring at Dave¡¯s retreating back.

    Connor shakes his head in awe, ¡°Shit, I didn¡¯t even think of using a cat name. He really won that one, that¡¯s why he¡¯s the best.¡±

    You brush your teeth and climb into your lime green sleeping bag and wonder if anyone will really start calling the river ¡®Pickles¡¯.

    oOo

    You wake up tired but that¡¯s nothing new. Body heavy, brain sluggish, you blink in the morning light seeping into your tent. Your eyes are dry so you rub at them with the heels of your hands. You manage to sit up, but you¡¯re not sure how you did it. Bird calls rattle your rib cage. No sounds but the soliloquy of fauna reach your ears.

    That¡¯s strange.

    Where are the others? Camp was lively just last night.

    You emerge from your lair to meet a seemingly abandoned camp, which deeply unsettles you. You swallow a lump in your throat.Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

    Stumbling down to the firepit in a haze, you find a half-full coffee percolator and an honest-to-G-d handwritten note.

    Flash,

    Sorry to leave you like that, sleeping beauty, but Harley, Gio, and Cap were restless as all hell this morning. Got me up at the ass crack of dawn because they were bored. There¡¯s only so much bitching that I, as a human being with ears, can take, so we had to do something. Dave and I took them exploring around camp, should be back by lunch. I made you some coffee, so you¡¯re not allowed to get mad.

    The troublesome trio tagged along with us, too, so don¡¯t be looking for them. I really don¡¯t get why they always hang out together if all they do is fight. Seems weird, doesn¡¯t it?

    Oh yeah, if Sana isn¡¯t around when you read this, she¡¯s just off on one of her little field trips. Not sure how long she¡¯ll be gone but she always comes back.

    See ya!

    -Connor

    Connor¡¯s messy scrawl is barely legible but you eventually decode the message and sigh to yourself. He did make some damn good coffee, so you can¡¯t find it in yourself to get mad at him, the clever bastard. He knows you too well.

    Cap, though? That¡¯s a different story.

    You trod over to the unusually flat log, mug of tasty coffee in hand, annoyed by the stillness. It just feels wrong for camp to be so quiet. Every moment of nothingness reminds you how lonely you are, how utterly alone you are in this world. Without your campmates, you have nothing at all. What if they never come back? What reason would you have for existing then?

    That frightens you, to have nothing beyond the benevolence of mortals. They will all die one day. What then?

    Honestly, it¡¯s a bit presumptuous to assume you¡¯ll outlive them. You know what they say about hubris.

    You continue to allow your mind to wander freely in the silence. There is not much else for you to partake in. Where is Sana? Where does she disappear to?

    What does she do, alone in the forest?

    Maybe you¡¯ll ask her one day.

    You wonder to do with yourself, all own your own with naught but the trees and ferns for company. There¡¯s no one to cook for and no one to talk to, and those are really the only two things you can do these days. Even reading¡¯s off the table because you finished your Nixon book and don¡¯t know where Dave keeps the books, and you¡¯d rather not go snooping around.

    Eventually, you decide to try to make a hat using old scraps of fabric you find in the tupperwares of wonder.

    Digging through the bins, you uncover all sorts of fabrics, mostly torn pillow cases and the like. You gather all the hat-like cloth you can get your hands on.

    You also find a sewing kit and scissors in the tubs, which seems mighty convenient, but you won¡¯t look a gift horse in the mouth. Sitting yourself down at the firepit, you endeavor to make Dave a new, even tackier bucket hat as a thank you for all he¡¯s done for you. It¡¯s not nearly enough, but at least it¡¯s a start.

    As it turns out, sewing is much harder than you¡¯d anticipated. You keep poking yourself with the needle, the hat is falling apart at the seams, and it looks so ugly. Sana makes it look so damn easy! This shit is not easy¡ªher mends look machine done and now it¡¯s even more impressive than it was before.

    It¡¯s past lunch and you still have nothing more than an ugly pile of scraps.

    ¡°No, Argo, because we have to perceive the fourth dimension. We would experience its shadow, like how 3D objects are perceived in the second dimension. Like, if you have a cube, it looks like a square in the second dimension. Therefore, logically, we would have to perceive the three-dimensional shadow of the fourth dimension. Which is why I say it¡¯s time! We perceive time linearly! It all makes perfect sense,¡± A mysterious voice chatters loftily in the soft breeze.

    You look up from your project, startled by not only the sudden sound but also the topic of conversation.

    It continues with a huff, ¡°You¡¯re not thinking about it the right way. Think about the transition from the first dimension to the second¡ªthe jump from a single point in space to a shape on a plane. It¡¯s not necessarily a logical progression. The fourth dimension being time makes sense because we can¡¯t manipulate it the way we can with 3D objects.¡±

    The voice is seemingly conversing with itself, because you don¡¯t hear any replies. It¡¯s unsettling.

    ¡°If the fourth dimension is spatial, then what aspect of it do we perceive? What¡¯s it¡¯s shadow?¡±

    Silence.

    ¡°The sky?! Now you¡¯re just fucking with me.¡±

    Laughter.

    ¡°Jerk!¡±

    You set down your sewing project and rise to your feet, nervousness spiking as the voice approaches. The others are still nowhere to be found, so you are alone, at the mercy of whoever the hell is talking to themself about the fourth dimension and calling themself a jerk.

    The stranger in question comes into view, and as it turns out, there are indeed two distinct people instead of just one crazy one. That¡¯s a load off your mind.

    Of the two strangers, it immediately becomes obvious which one was doing all the talking, arms flapping in a way that you suppose can be called gesturing. They¡¯re short and skinny and pink in the cheeks, rolling large eyes in a rather condescending manner, ¡°This isn¡¯t the dark ages, we know that there are planets and galaxies beyond ours. I know you¡¯re just bein¡¯ a dick, but c¡¯mon, man, work with me here. I¡¯m just tryna have a good old fashioned academic conversation with you, you asshole! Y¡¯know, intellectual sustenance and all that.¡±

    Their ¡®conversation¡¯ partner is tall and dark skinned and quiet. They say nothing, but jerk their head in your direction, locking dark eyes with your wide ones.

    ¡°Holy shit!¡± The shorter one whistles, shaking their head of chestnut curls, ¡°Dave really did it, huh?¡±

    They approach you and you swallow. Intense eyes scan your face, your clothes, the camp, and the abandoned hat in your hands. The silence grows tense when the taller one draws closer as well, observing you from a distance that feels insurmountable.

    The shorter one clears their throat and tilts their head, and your heart skips a beat. ¡°Hey,¡± They greet you anticlimactically, ¡°I¡¯m Rowdy, and this here is Argo. Welcome to Fort Kickass.¡±

    Of all the things you want to say, a flabbergasted ¡°Fort Kickass?¡± is all you can manage. So this is the infamous Rowdy, breaker of compasses and all around goofball extraordinaire. The cognitive dissonance between your preconceived notion of him and the reality makes you dizzy.

    Rowdy grins and the ice breaks, ¡°Dave didn¡¯t tell you the name of our camp? He doesn¡¯t like it much but Connor does, and Dave sure as hell can¡¯t say no to Con.¡±

    ¡°They never said anything about a name, but that sounds about right,¡± You laugh, easing into the conversation like the professional small-talker you are, ¡°I¡¯m Flash. They found me with two others, though I¡¯m not really sure where everyone went.¡±

    ¡°Those idiots love to run off,¡± Rowdy jabs good-naturedly, waving a lofty hand. Argo grunts in what you assume is agreement, but you can¡¯t be sure. ¡°But, never mind them, what¡¯s your story, Flash?¡±

    You blush at the single-minded attention, ¡°Me? I don¡¯t really have a story, to be honest. I just cook. I¡¯m trying to learn how to make a hat but it¡¯s not going so¡ª¡±

    ¡°COOK?!¡± Rowdy cuts you off a little belatedly, ¡°We finally have a cook?! Thank god, I was almost positibe Connor was trying to slowly kill us with that shitty cooking of his.¡±

    You don¡¯t think he¡¯s giving Connor enough credit but in the interest of not pissing off someone you just met, you just laugh awkwardly and rub the back of your neck. ¡°Yeah, we think I was a chef before¡­ well this.¡± You gesture vaguely to the camp and the trees and the mountain. Rowdy nods sagely, beyond his years in a manner you can¡¯t articulate.

    ¡°A practical skill in the face of nuclear annihilation, don¡¯t ya think?¡±

    You¡¯d never thought of it that way, but yeah. Huh. Imagine if you¡¯d studied graphic design instead.

    ¡°Rowdy!¡± A deep voice echoes across camp, and Rowdy¡¯s eyes light up with something indescribable as he scans the surrounding area in search of a very special man. When the two make eye contact, Connor and the others returning from the trees, both their faces split into enormous grins.

    The shorter man runs to Connor and tackles him with a hug, ¡°Con! Did you miss me?¡±

    ¡°Miss you?¡± Connor snorts affectionately, gathering Rowdy into a headlock, ¡°Are you kidding me?¡± He vigorously noogies Rowdy¡¯s shaggy head. ¡°¡¯Course I did! What is a man without his little idiot son?¡±

    Dave approaches you and slings a casual arm around your shoulder, chuckling at his partner.

    ¡°Two peas in a pod, huh?¡± He sighs affectionately. You¡¯re inclined to agree, those two are made for each other.

    ¡°Papi, are you making fun of me over there? Huh? You makin¡¯ me look bad in front of the new guys, bastard?¡± Rowdy calls from where he¡¯s still trapped in Connor¡¯s arms, grinning a gap-toothed grin that rivals Con¡¯s in brightness.

    Shaking his head, Dave chuckles, ¡°You don¡¯t need me for that! You¡¯re doin¡¯ a damn good job yourself.¡± You guffaw despite yourself and Dave looks inordinately pleased about it.

    Connor laughs so hard he snorts and almost chokes the spluttering Rowdy still trapped in a headlock, which makes you lose it even more. Man, if you thought Electra was the most exciting person at camp you were dead wrong, pal.

    In an obvious ploy to distract Rowdy from his near-fatal headlock, Connor asks about his excursion with Argo. Rowdy preens from the attention, seemingly ignorant to Connor¡¯s not-so-subtle manipulation, babbling excitedly about what he and Argo found on their little adventure.

    Argo wanders off towards the tents as he shrugs his backpack off his shoulder. Neither of the chattering men notice his departure.

    You do, however, and you surprise yourself by boldly following after him. You¡¯re obscenely curious about him, and there¡¯s no way you¡¯re getting any information out of Rowdy while he¡¯s still catching up with Connor. So, you take matters into your own hands, betraying your shy nature for once.

    What good will shyness do you, here at the end? Is it not better to at least try to befriend the only people you¡¯ll ever know?

    Argo dumps his backpack outside the hut closest to Dave and Connor¡¯s tent before turning to face you. You freeze. He doesn¡¯t say anything, he merely peers at you like you¡¯re a wild animal, like you¡¯ll bolt if he so much as breathes too loudly.

    That analysis may not be entirely inaccurate.

    Taking a nerve-soothing breath, you say, ¡°Hi. I¡¯m Flash.¡±

    He nods. ¡°Argo.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s, uh¡­ nice to meet you.¡±

    ¡°You too.¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t get to talk to you before, so I figured¡­¡±

    He nods again.

    ¡°So, uh¡­ What do you do around here?¡±

    He pats his hut, then the hut next to it.

    ¡°Huh? The huts?¡± You take a guess, ¡°¡­Did you build them?¡±

    He nods once more.

    ¡°Out of what?¡±

    ¡°Wood.¡±

    ¡°Oh, yeah, duh. They¡¯re, uh, very nice. Good job.¡±

    ¡°Three weeks.¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°Your huts. It takes three weeks.¡±

    You smile at him, ¡°Take all time you need. I don¡¯t mind sleeping in the tent! Makes me feel like I¡¯m camping, yknow?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ll mind in winter.¡±

    ¡°Does it get cold here?¡± You scrunch up your nose when a thought suddenly comes to you, ¡°Will it snow?!¡±

    He grunts an affirmative. You gasp a bit overdramatically, but I¡¯ll cut you some slack this one time. Snow! You don¡¯t think you¡¯ve ever seen it, because you can only picture it. Usually, even if you can¡¯t remember the specifics, you at least remember the sensations of what you¡¯ve experienced before the apocalypse.

    There is nothing but the image of snow in your head.

    You try again and fail again to get him to engage with you, so you cut your losses and start to head back down the hill. From what you heard of his and Rowdy¡¯s conversation, Argo definitely talks and has a sense of humor. Why won¡¯t he talk to you?

    Did you do something wrong? Does he hate you?

    Maybe you shouldn¡¯t have followed him. Maybe shyness does some good, saving you from embarrassment and ridicule such as this.

    Instead of joining the others back at the firepit, you decide to duck into your tent. Argo¡¯s apathy burns like a gunshot, and you¡¯d rather hide away to lick your wounds than go back to the others, propriety be damned. After all, look at all the good that being social¡¯s done you.

    You collapse face down on your lime green sleeping bag, intent on taking a bitterness nap or perhaps suffocating in your sleep. The sounds of laughter float up from the pit and you bury your face farther into the polyester. You try to hold them back but the tears come nonetheless, saline beading on the surface of your bag and sliding down your neck.

    Why does he hate you? You¡¯re not that bad, are you?

    Maybe you are. Maybe you deserve this. You sob brokenly, curling in on yourself as your body shudders.