The bleak Sun warily made its way into the sky. Thin veils of this Sun then fought through curtains and closed windows to reach men both dead and alive. One such soul lay slumbered, temporarily unaware of the desolation outside, dreaming of sweetness and hospitality in the most excess of amounts. A smile wryly crawling onto his face, a breathing relaxed and almost child-like in its innocence, one could pity him enough to attempt to keep him asleep forever stuck in such animation. A world so unkind lets no affairs occur, and so the boy, like too many others, opens his eyes slowly and lets the warm light rush in.
The boy, now awake, rubs his eyes and lets out a fresh yawn. The cold floor massages his feet, jolting him into a state of awareness not afforded to him before. Looking around the room, he tries to remember the events of the day before and the corresponding moments that forced him to take shelter here. From what he can gather, he was attacked, and in his desperate escape, he found this place under the cover of darkness. The wasteland is beyond dangerous at night, and so the best solution was to scout out this cabin and then claim it for himself. The whole house smelled of years now gone, of a different time. Perhaps it was a period where the threat of war was still fresh and the idea of the end of days felt more plausible than starting a family. Advertisements for underground havens continually cropping up, adding more fear into a frenzied populace. Now, the screams are silent. That fear has subsided for new ones.
Death is worthless in the wasteland. If it were a commodity, no one would ever pay for it, just like ego and greed. Regardless, this inflation has not ended and most likely never will. The wasteland does not wait for man, however, and so we must keep on the move.
The boy fixes his hair, retrieves his bag and heads out the door to continue his pursuit of that which is important to him.
Upon reaching the outside, something strikes him: the disquiet of the wastes. After last night, he'd been suspecting some kind of ambush, an invisible boogeyman lurking over his shoulder in both light and darkness. That did not seem the case today. All seemed well for once. After traversing many miles without incident, the merciless Sun beating down on his exposed skin, he came to find something: a very young girl.
When her eyes reached his, she froze in place. Her hair, longer than necessary, covered most of her face, save for her left eye, which was an unbelievably bright blue. Her small body shook violently with an expression only those most petrified would adopt. She felt she was going to die. The man stopped moving far enough away from her that she slowed her trembling. She, without much confidence, took to her feet and attempted to sound brave.
--Stay away from me or I will shoot, she says attempting to sound cold.
She brandishes a gun, cocks it and points at the man.
--I'm serious! Make any moves and I shoot you through the heart.
The man is silent. Slowly, he puts his bag down, kicks it over to her and puts his hands up.
--I am sorry I scared you. Take what you need out of my bag. In return, I'd like to leave, said the man in a truly stoic delivery.
The girl's eye widened. It was obvious she did not anticipate this gesture. When he started moving his arms, she almost pulled the trigger on him. No matter how convincing his tone, she knew she still had to be careful. She had no way to know what would be in that pack.
--Tell me, and be honest with me, is there any water in there? Her voice wavering between hard and soft.
--The water is dirty, but it will not hurt you. I have had a few sips of it, and I have not died.
Again the man's eyes did not waver from hers. He did not hesitate in his speech. He seemed quite genuine. For some reason, she felt she could trust him, and so she moved toward the pack. Opening it, she let out a sigh of relief. No traps: just the water he told her about. Removing the water and twisting off the cap, she downed the entire bottle.
--Is this all you have?
--Forgive me. If I had more, gladly, then, I would give.
Against her preconceptions of men in the wasteland, this man seemed truly kind. He actually had the look of someone regretting that they did not have more water. She staggered back a bit, lowering the gun slightly, completely flustered and unaware of how to deal with such a person. For some reason, she felt a bit guilty for taking his water.
--Are you parents still alive? He inquired in a matter-of-fact sort of way.
--Are yours? She shot back sarcastically.
--No.
--There's your answer, asserted the girl.
--How long have you been alone out here?
--Why do you want to know that?
--When was the last time you ate? He added, completely ignoring her chirp.
--A few days ago. Anyway, what's your point? She divulged, also ignoring his ignoring of her previous question.
--Can I go? Asked he flatly.
--Yeah. I'm watching you go, though.
Retrieving his pack, he began to walk away from her, without looking back. One characteristic that stuck out to him was her way of standing. She was hunched over, weakly, perhaps she got sick a lot due to her skin's bloodless nature. Suddenly, he stopped and turned.
--Hey, where are you heading?
--What? Why in the hell would I tell you that?
--Why not tell me? He imparted while shrugging his shoulders.
--Because you could follow me, she said, perplexed by his lack of self-awareness.
--Oh, good point. Were you heading somewhere?
--Nowhere in particular, to be honest.
--Come with me.
--What the fuck? She cried with a jump back.
--I'm on my way to a village. It's the safest place I know. The people there are peaceful.
--How can I trust you? She demanded, squinting her eyes while anticipating.
--I guess you just have to. It's your choice. You're in no position to be firing a weapon, that much I can tell. Your vision is blurry, isn't it?
--How do you know that? Demanded she, astonished at his guess.
--You're dehydrated. Your aim is off. Your bullet would hit me in the shoulder, not the heart.
The girl lowered the gun and sighed, clearly giving much thought to the proposition. After a time, she came to a decision.
--Fine, I'll go. I'm not stupid, though. I'm keeping my guard up.
--Are you sure it's wise to tell someone you don't trust that? He asked with a small smirk encroaching on his mouth.
--Shut up. Let's go, she barked.
The man lets out a small, genuine laugh.
--Start walking. I'm staying behind you the whole walk.
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