Tag: series

White Edges

Bridget BalesLeave a comment

I inhaled, sighed, then sucked on the burnt paper, exhaling through my nose as smoke swirled into the air. “I get locked up for doing drugs, and what do they do when I get here? Give me drugs to help me recover.”

It was nice to be outside, enjoying the sunshine after all of the rain we had the last week. I could still smell the damp wetness from the rooftops.

“Yeah, but they’ll never legalize the good stuff,” Reggie nodded from his resting place on the other side of the picnic table.

“Good stuff? Like what you gave me?” Whatever it had been, this medical weed didn’t compare.

He snorted, “Sure, you could call it that.”

I sighed when I did not get the answer I wanted and took another drag.

“Your dad come to visit?”

“Don’t think he can stand the sight of me right now. Besides, he’s on a business meeting overseas. I still can’t believe that witch locked me in here. It was just stupid perfume.”

“Didn’t you bash her face in the mirror of that vanity, first?”

“That’s beside the point.” I replied with a small smile. “Even so, that would mean its your fault I got locked in here.”

He chuckled, “Meh, worth it.” He sat up and rested his elbows on the table. “Think you’ll be out in time for prom?”

“In your dreams, Reg.”

He snorted at that, “As long as I’m allowed to dream.”

I shook the ash from the blunt, then looked back at him, “What about Sonya?”

“Oh, she switched sides.”

“Ouch, that sucks, man.” I faced forward again to hide my smile.

Another inhale of medical induced bliss, and I crushed what was left in the hospital provided ash tray. My treatment for the day now over, they would take me back inside to the white rooms, where I would wait out the high before I was brought food, then taken to Dr. Philips, the jerk with a PhD.

“So, when do they allow conjugal visits?”

I cut my eyes in his direction but smiled anyway. “When I’m eighteen.”

“Well, that’s boring.” Reggie stood up and tasted the smoke on my lips. Then, he stepped on the other side of the park bench to leave. “See you around, crazy girl.”

“Enjoy your lonely evening, drug dealer.” He gave a bow at my comment and exited the roof as two nurses came through to retrieve me.

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Edges

Bridget BalesLeave a comment

Just one puff. I just needed something to cool me off, make me relax. Reggie after class said it would help me forget what a horrible week I had.

I shifted my eyes between the many white rooms on either side of the hallway. She had overreacted, that trashy stepmother of mine. I just trashed her vanity and broke all of her expensive perfume that she used to lure my father into marrying her.

I was just tweaking, that’s all. It was just one stupid puff, that witch. Is that any reason to ship me off to the state mental institute?

My Little Mermaid Chapter 4 – The Lure

Bridget Bales3 Comments

In another world, a newer time, and better storyline, Ariel would have saved the dinglehopper. Shined it, cared for it, and put on display, just left to the thingamabobs and below the galore of whatsits.

She tossed it to the side, instead, and torpedoed deeper into the sunken ship. That voice and those eyes of the strange, smoky blue figure. He felt… Familiar, like she had heard of him before. And like all things land, she swam down to the largest collection of whose-its to skim through layers of thin tablets to find him, before the delicate etchings faded away.

As she flowed and swayed, to and frow, to the waters current, she hummed its tune, to make numb the pain in her chest. Last time she had been down here, flounder almost lost his tail…

And daddy had to listen to a dozen schools of fish complain about how much of a bad influence the youngest princess was on their many children.

Ariel, of course, still protested and blamed it on the shark, to which Flounder had joined in to agree and protest as well.

In the day’s current, though, she swam alone. There was no reason to danger another creature with her wildest passions. And, Flounder had been… Well, to put it bluntly, Flounder was growing up. And growing tired of the olden days of Chase and Explore, like her young guppy games were merely that. Games. And Flounder had his future to think of, of course.

Well, Ariel had hers to. And when they discovered her plans, well…

She swayed this way and that, gliding over the leather-bound wonders as she pretended to read each foreign symbol etched into their bindings. And as she swayed, she hummed, then parted her lips and let out a soft melody that traveled through the waters around her:

“I need another story,
Something to get off my chest.
My life is kind of boring,
Need somewhere that I’m not oppressed.

My sisters made their bed
They won’t listen to see past, instead
The mask they think I don’t wear.
Thought you saw me blink, so,
I can hardly breath, so

Tell me what you want to hear,
Your voice has been so unclear,
So sick of being insecure,
I just wanna let go and fly away.

This time, I pray that you’re not a lie,
Don’t care if I cross the line,
I’m gonna let go and fly away.

But, if only my family knew,
What would they say?
So sick of all the insincere
Why won’t they just let me go and fly away?

I’ve tried, hidden messages in lullabies
Won’t let my feelings stand by
Why won’t they just let me go and fly away?

They won’t miss me if I’m not here,
They won’t come no matter how much I let them in,
They can’t see that I’m so insecure
Why can’t they just let me go and fly away?

These ties, broken so easily when family dies,
Won’t care about me either way,
If they just let me go, I would fly away.”*

Her fingers paused against one of the bindings, and she knocked the fragile tablets to the side and picked up the largest one on the bottom, as easily as a leaf of seaweed. Spiraling to the top of the boat, Ariel opened it up to the fading pages and let the book fall to the shipwreck floor as she followed it down. It made no sound as it touched the sand below and she settled down in front of it, her tail swaying back while she studied the strange language, like a young girl swings her feet back and forth as she is reading a good book.

Slowly, she turned each page, caught between amazement and wonder and the beautiful creature and how those humans understood a single character that was written on these thin, clothlike pressings. Her heart picked up when she turned a page, and caught sight of the blue male figure, the one she had spoken with up on shore.

Her eyes darted to below the portrait, and her fingers ran back and forth along the foreign languages, recognizing the repeat of many characters, but not quite able to understand them. But the pictures of the man, Ariel could understand those. Pictures were like ballads of shapes and figures. His especially were a whirlpool of color, striking every mental nerve with a sharp pluck. He was like a song, was the only way she could describe it, a song she learned to sing and scream and bellow, but could not for her own life, form the words to.

Red locks floated and hovered for a moment, as her head dipped down and she brushed her lips against the blue figure’s with a chaste passion. She giggled at her own silliness, then sighed as she stared at the portrait, longing to kiss it again.

“A-Ariel!” Her head jerked up with sudden fear and shame, and she quickly closed the book.

“Flounder?” she called out, looking all around. He would not understand her at all. But, her heart beat fast with excitement. Perhaps, he had changed his mind? Yes! Perhaps now, he would try, really try to understand her feelings.

“Flounder! I’m down here!” Pressing the large leather-bound tablet to her chest, she lifted herself up off the ocean floor, and circled around to scan the broken openings in the ships hole. Where was he?

“Ariel!” there was his voice again! Above her? No, it had been fading.

“Flounder, wait!” She giggled again, and swam through the hatch to the top deck. “I was down looking at pictures again. I found what I was looking for!” Her tail turned in twirls again, expecting to see the yellow sea creature floating just behind her, but there was no glimpse of his blue stripes, nor his tiny fin. “Flounder, I told you I was going to the shipwreck.” She called out, swimming further on to where she believed she had heard his voice.

“Ariel!” She heard his voice again, this time around one of the coral reef’s tunnels.

Her best friend, she had to catch him! They would play one last game of Chase, before she told him her plans. Ariel needed Flounder to support her on this. She could not do it alone. “My, Flounder, you’ve gotten rather fast!”

Slowing down to the entrance of the tunnel, her gills pulled in fresh saltwater, then she torpedoed forward, and around the bend. “Ahah- Flounder?” She paused again. He was not… there.

“Ariel!” Again, his voice called out, and she swam after it. This part of the reef did not look familiar to her. Perhaps he had found a new hideout for them? Yes, one last game of Explore before she moved on.

“You can hide, Flounder, but you can’t swim very fast!” She laughed again, chasing after his voice as she held the book to her chest. Yes, she would catch him, then show him what she had found! Just like they used to do!

Around more corners, and through deeper tunnels, she followed his voice again and again as he called out to her, never quite able to catch a glimpse of him. He must have been at the end, and had planned this, for his voice traveled very well through the tunnels. Obviously, that must have been the case, because there was no way Flounder was that fast.

Suddenly, Ariel turned around a corner and reached a dead end. But, there was no Flounder. Above her, though, the water stopped, and opened up into an air pocket. Her and Flounder had come across a few of these before, but he had never willingly gone through one.

“Oh, Flounder, you can’t hide, either!” She chimed out, then broke through the surface with alarming speed, and halted quickly before she dolphined through the air. The cavern was brightly light, the burning, flickering heats that she had seen so many countless times on land, rested on either side, before the short shore. Her hand reached out to it in longing.

That burning, flickering heat, she had longed to lace her fingers through and grasp, not matter how badly it scorched her flesh. But, then… “Flounder…?”

“Oh, is that what you call the Cheesy Filet?” Her heart caught in her throat, and she held the binding to her chest protectively, though she knew it was meaningless compared to whom that voice belonged to. He stepped out from the shadows and into the glowing light, the wispy smoke following behind him as he reached the water’s edge.

She moved back instinctively, and every bone in her tail urged her to run. But… “Where is Flounder?”

“Not here,” he grinned, “I used his voice to lure you here.”

Shame swept her features as she had so stupidly followed his lure, and had kissed his portrait so carelessly. “W-why…?”

“Don’t you think it’s time we talked,” his hand raised up and she felt the waters shift behind her. Spinning around, she watched the entrance she had swam through close up with thick fog, the kind of fog that was warned could swallow a mermaid whole, if they got too close. She moved back away from the smoke, then turned to face him, now at his feet, on the shores edge. “Without interruptions this time, Ariel,” he added with a smile.

XXX

“Talking”

“Singing”

Song*: Secrets by OneRepublic

Ahah! See, you did not have to wait a whole year (or three) before I updated again! For some reason, this story line has eluded me, but I think I finally got back on track on where I was going with it. I’m already working on chapter five as you read this.

My Little Mermaid Chapter 3 – A Promise

My Little Mermaid Chapter 5 – Desires

Vampire’s Assistant

Bridget BalesLeave a comment

There was blood on the walls in the bathroom. There was always blood on the walls in the bathroom. I should have known he would be here, feeding again. It was one of those days. I had felt it this morning, leaving the house without a grunt of protest from him.

The blood was smeared across the tiles in a raged mess.

The smeared mess glistened from the dim, florescent light.

I walked over to the sink to wash my hands, feeling the sick nausea sweeping over my body once again. Scrubbing them clean from the grime that was about to dirty them, I listened and waited as the last stall door creaked.

Drenched shoes stepped along the pale floor.

I could see him in the mirror as his body came into view. The grin in his eyes was red.

“Sophia.” Chilling, icy, he pressed his black soul to my back each and every moment he locked eyes with me.

“You made it just in time.”

I spoke no words in response. I just washed my hands, scrubbing them.

I knew what he was going to say. I always knew exactly what he was going to say. And he always spoke the exact same frosted rhythm when he did so.

In his reflection, dark, soaked clothing sloshed silently from his slight movements.

“Get me my clothes,” he demanded, softly, but his eyes looked down and the tall man pulled slightly at his cuff-links.

The duffel bag slid from my shoulders and fell to the floor when I dried my hands. Kneeling, I unzipped the sports bag that held items belonging to no sport in particular, and pulled from the large case, a set of neatly folded, top of the line name brand threads.

Ripping the clothes from my palms, he changed. The dirty ones dropped to the water tracks on the tiled floor.

Picking them up, they were folded neatly and placed back into the open duffel, non-sports bag.

He stepped closer, looking down upon my form. “Sophia.” I knew what came next.

At least, I thought I did. This time, this one time, he paused. Placing a hand to my cheek, he tilted my chin up. “You don’t look good,” Gabe almost sounded concerned.

On command, I stood. He pressed his mouth against mine so I could taste the blood of his victims. I did not like the blood. I did not want the blood.

He had saved it just for me. I swallowed the blood and turned my head away, to wipe was left from my lips with the sleep of my coat.

When he pulled away, he ordered me once more, “Clean this mess up.”

There was no nod, nor verbal acknowledgement that I understood him, as I knelt back down in front of the duffel and removed rolls of towels, disinfectant and trash bags to do as he had asked.

When I rose to my feet again, he was gone. Either back to the manor, or to continue his pursuit of the older female students, I never knew which.

I made my way to the back of the stalls, eventually, counting the seconds I was in the bathroom while I scrubbed the blood away. More than fifteen minutes, and the teacher would send another student in to make sure I was not skipping. That I had learned from experience.

The was no body at the end of the blood trail. There never was. Gabe never uttered a word of his victims, and I never asked.

I would see one or two roaming the hall a few days later, dazed and oblivious to where they received the bite marks that hid under the small bandages they wore. I never knew them before the feeding and I would never forget them after the mess. I was sure Gabe planned his attacks around strangers in the school, so as to not distract me from my studies.

It was not like I really had any friends for him to target to begin with.

The soaked towels went into the trash bag, the trash bag into my duffel, and my duffel over my shoulders as I went back to the sink to scrub my hands again. I had to be careful, blood had a tendency to stain.

Then, I left the bathroom to head back to class, before my fifteen minutes were up.

Sugar

Bridget BalesLeave a comment

“Halfway! Get over here!” The chief bellowed, sticking his pudgy head out of the side of his office.

“You’re in for it now, Hathway,” Jimmy, a detective two desks down from mine shouted across the room.

I cracked a signature smile and coolly walked over to man’s office. “Yeah, chief?” Running my fingers through my hair, I stepped past the doorway and waited for the chief to slam it shut behind me.

“You’re late. Why.”

“Sorry, I’m sleeping off a hangover.” I faced away from the chief so he could not see that my eyes were not bloodshot from the alcohol.

“That’s no excuse. Your partner was shot and killed last night. We’ve got a witness who had front row seats to the shooting. I want you to go talk to her.”

“Aw, man.” I ran my fingers through my hair again, in distress. I really needed a haircut. “Okay. That it?”

“And go talk to his wife after that. I’ll assign you a new partner, but for now, this case is yours. Find out who took our man, halfway.” Jones, my partner, was a dick. But, he was a pretty good cop. Had a cute family, too.

“Sure. Anyone else talk to the witness?”

“No, she won’t talk to anyone.”

“Really?”

“She hasn’t said a word.”

“And she’s been there all night?”

“Yeah. Now, get out of my office and get to work.” I headed for the door. So Jones was dead, huh?

Exiting his office, I pushed past a couple of cops who had formed a circle around one of the guy’s desk. “Yo, Hathway, you up for poker tonight?”

“Nah,” I waved my hand. “I’ve got work to do.”

“You sure? We heard about Jones. What about a drink?”

“Did some of that last night. No thanks.” I was nowhere near a bar last night.

Heading up to the vending machine, I got one of each type of candy bar available, and then grabbed a cup of Joe on the way to the interrogation room. Stuffing a few pink sugar packets in my pants pocket, I snagged a stirrer and proceeded down the hall.

“Hey, Hathway, up high,” Another detective, Carl March, gave a big grin with his hand above his head.

“The Cougs win the game last night?” When I did not high five him, he put it down awkwardly.

“Yeah, you didn’t watch the game?”

“No, I was drinking.”

“Aw, man, you missed it.” March glanced strangely at my arsenal of junk food. “Where are you going with that?”

With the straightest face I could muster, I stared him in the eye, “Heart attack.”

He smiled with a laugh, “I think you need a bit more candy, and little less chocolate. That stuffs too good for you.”

I laughed, too. Not that I found it funny. March had a way moping around when his jokes were not received well. “No, I’ve got to interview a witness.”

“Oh, the girl from last night? Yeah, good luck with her.”

“Thanks, I’ll need it.” Turning past him, I reached the door to the interview room and juggled the coffee and candy in either hand before deciding which one to attempt to turn the handle with.

Candy hand it was. I turned the knob, and half the chocolate bars tumbled to the floor. With a chuckle, I kept my eyes to the ground as I walked in, to appear nervous, and turned to face the door to close it.

The air was solid and stale. A sweet and sour peach smell, which must have mustered from the shampoo she used yesterday morning and her perfume mixing together, clung to the walls. I would mention to the cleaning crew that they should start scrubbing this room with bleach.

“Sorry about that.” I slid my feet to the table and allowed the rest of the candy to fall on it before retrieving the ones off the floor. “Here, I got you some coffee.” I set the cup down and turned to retrieve the candy bars, still not making eye contact.

There was no response from the woman.

“And I didn’t really know what you liked, so I got one of everything we had in the vending machine.” Minus the chips. “And there’s a cafeteria around the corner if you want, when we get through.”

Still no response from the lady.

Taking my seat across from her, I took a deep breath and let it out obnoxiously, finally looking at her. Her eyes were down. Her face, once painted beautifully, had begun to fade and fall off. She looked tired, and in dire need of a touch up. The corners of her eyes had smeared mascara that had run down toward her cheeks, with mixed blue eye shadow, which was once a bright sky color, was fading into her skin and tumbling off her dry eye lashes.

Her hair had been curled, pinned back and hair sprayed last night, and now it looked like she had just woken up from a hangover, from which she had partied too hard. Her dress skirt, coat and blouse were once dry cleaned and neatly pressed for her to wear to work, but were now wrinkled and less impressive. Even the seams looked like they were sagging. Her heels were at one of the legs of the table and her stockings that matched so beautifully against her legs were now ripped in one area, of which had a scar that had bled, smeared, and then scabbed over.

Last night, she was young beautiful woman. This morning, she was an old hag.

I leaned back in my seat, and took another deep breath. The woman reached for a simple chocolate bar. That pleased me to see. “So, um… what’s your name?”

“Dianna.” Slowly, she fiddled with the wrapper, not whole heartedly trying to open it. Her pink nail polish was chipped and there was dirt under her nails. “Dianna Sella,” Her voice was rough, unlike last night. Last night it was soft, innocent, so pretty. Now, it sounded like she was in the middle of fighting the worst cold of her life. “You seem familiar. Do… I know you?”

“I don’t think so.” I took a deep breath again. “Dianna,” I nodded. “Pretty name. My name’s Hathway. Can I call you Dianna?” She nodded, finally opening the wrapper. The sound of her breaking off a piece, biting down on it, and chewing slowly before swallowing had my undivided attention for the next few minutes. And that was when I realized, I was dying of hunger. Feeling myself eyeing the other candy, I turned back to her.

“So, can you tell me what happened? At least, what you remember? I mean, I’m sure that you’ve probably said this a million times.”

She shook her head, “No,” Swallowed, and then, “I did not talk to the other police officers. I have not talked to anyone since last night.” Well, that was good.

“Okay. Tell me what happened, if you don’t mind.”

She nodded, and put the candy bar down, to think. My assumption was that she was trying to think of a way to say what had happened last night without actually saying what had happened last night. “I… I had stopped at a corner store, on the way home from work, for some coffee.” She snatched up the chocolate bar again, almost hungrily. It had become her comfort. “Getting back in the car,” She began to move slightly, back and forth, “I didn’t notice, but someone had gotten in the back seat.” Her voice stopped. She took a big bite, chewed, and swallowed, “I guess I didn’t lock the car or something.”

For what she went through, I was surprised how calm she was. I assumed she spent most of the evening crying. Why in the world did they wait until I showed up to interview her, anyway?

Another bite, chew and swallow, and she forced out a breath. “If only I had locked the car…” I thought she was going to begin sobbing again. Her sobs were annoying. “… That cop would not have gotten killed…” Another bite, chew and swallow.

“Hey, it’s not your fault. He was my partner, and he was a brave guy.”

“I’m sorry…” Bite, chew, and swallow. “… If he was such a brave man, why did he hesitate when the attacker got out of my car and shot him in the head?” Her eyes closed, remembering the scene with a shudder. She would probably be scarred for life.

“Well, he was shot before the attacker got out of the car, wasn’t he? In the shoulder? I mean, maybe he was too hurt to run away.”

She shook her head. “He didn’t seem like it.” She glanced over at the cup of coffee.

“I brought some sugar if you would like some,” I nodded to the coffee cup. “What else do you remember? Do you remember the attacker?”

She shook her head. “It was dark. And he had a hat on. A beanie, I think. It was dark. Although, I think, the cop recognized him. He had a confused look on his face.”

“So, you think the cop got a good look at him, but you never did?”

She shook her head. “It was dark. Even in the rearview mirror, his face was just out of the light.” Opening the coffee cup, she picked up the stirrer. “Some sugar would be nice.”

Pulling a white packet out of my shirt pocket, I tossed it across the table at her.

“So that’s all you remember? Nothing else? You don’t remember anything about the attacker? His shoulders or even height?”

She smiled slightly. “I’ve never been that good with judging distances. No, I couldn’t recall either his shoulders or his height.” Opening the white packet, she poured its contents into the coffee cup and stirred it. “I might be able to pick him out of a lineup, maybe.” Another shrug and she sipped the caffeinated drink.

“Did the cop say anything to you, or to the attacker?”

“He asked if I was alright, and that was when he noticed the attacker. I think…” She took another sip of her coffee, tasting it again with a thoughtful distant stare. I glanced at my watch quickly. “I think he might have started to say something. Something to the attacker, maybe a name. I know it started with a vowel, but I never heard him finish the rest.”

Dianne stirred the coffee again and tasted it a third time. Then, she took a long gulp. “Does that mean anything?”

“I’ll keep that in mind. Anything else?” I glanced at my watch.

She took another long sip of her coffee. And then another. “Oh, wait. A scar, I think. Maybe. Like I said, it was dark, but I think he had a really faint scar.” She pointed to her temple. “Right here, next to his eye…”

Then, she shook her head, blinking in confusion. “Wait, I never said anything about the attacker shooting the officer before he got out of the car…” And that was when she looked up at me, for the first time. Her finger was still pointing to her temple, and she had a hand on her coffee cup.

With a slow small smile, I leaned back and relaxed. “The scar was from a knife fight with my old man a few years backs. Where do you think he is now?” Her eyes widened with horror, and she froze.

I smiled, “Jones deserved it.” Glancing at her coffee cup and then at my watch again, my smile broadened. “But, you won’t be alive much longer for my secret to get out.”

Her eyes, growing ever wide, dared to look down at the table, at the white packet I had passed to her. Her thumb fiddled with it until it turned over, and she could not find the word ‘sugar’ printed on either side.

Prequel: Road Rage 2

Terminal (part 2)

Bridget BalesLeave a comment

Sally dropped to the ground, frantically looking for her torn shirt. “How dare you! Do you mind!” she shrieked.

He merely gave a laugh. “No, not at all.”

“I-” Sally shot her head up to yell at him when a girl from the same group of travelers ran up to her, holding out a shirt.

“I’m so sorry about Brett. Here, we have extra ones.” The girl stopped right in front of her, looking down. She was short, but fully grown, as far as Sally could tell. And her clothes were dirty and worn, like the other man, and probably herself. Sally took the shirt, still in shock, and slowly put it on.

The girl turned back and waved to the other travelers. “We have another survivor!” she called out. Then, she looked back at Sally and held her hand out. “My name is Josephine. What’s yours.”

Sally blinked and took a deep breath, thinking for a moment. She reached up and held the girl’s hand, then let it go. “I-its Sally… Sally MacIntosh…” she stuttered out.

Josephine smiled. “It’s nice to meet you, Sally.” Then, she turned and went back to the group, which had slowed to a halt behind the man. Sally got to her feet and brushed herself off, scowling at him, while she listened to Josephine introduce her to the other people.

The man grinned back at her. “Sorry about that, Sally.” He walked toward her, and held his hand out, like the girl had. “It’s Sally, right? Just never thought I would see a pair like those in quite some time,” he joked lightly.

Sally did not hesitate to punch him right in the jaw, gritting her teeth in anger. She was going to show the man what happened to perverts like him. She did not care if it was the end of the world, that kind of behavior was downright rude, and there was no place for men like him in this nuclear wasteland.

The perverted male clutched his cheek and cried out in surprise, which shocked Sally. She gasped as he stumbled backwards and fell down. His skin turned purple and blue where Sally had punched him, as a bruise quickly formed. Blood dripped from his nose and the tops of his gums. The man took a deep breath and spit at the dirt.

“I…”

“Hey, back off!” Another male from the travelers rushed between Sally and the one she had injured, and he pushed her away. “Are you crazy?”

“But, I-”

“Back away! And leave him alone, leave all of them alone,” he snapped at her. Then, he knelt down and began to unpack plastic wrapped gauze and antiseptic wipes, tending to the bleeding victim.

Sally held her breath, staring between the blood, and the travelers that were slowly approaching her, their eyes very accusing. She had barely tapped the man. Why was he bleeding?

“I… I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“It’s okay,” the shorter woman, Josephine, looked at Sally from the front of the group, “It’s not your fault. Brett’s… sick.”

Sally did not understand at first. Sick? If he was sick, then what was he doing out here? Then, Sally took a really good look at this… Brett. She studied his pale skin, and took notes of the small scratches and sores on his arms and the stained bandages on his legs. He was sick…?

Sally glanced up at Josephine again, when she realized the other woman was waiting for her response. This woman had similar bandages, and cuts and bruises. Then again, so did most of the travelers. They wore hats and beanies, and carried bags of different sizes. Their clothes hung off their bones, as if they were all walking coat hangers. Their bandages were either soaked or dirty, and their eyes had sunken back into their skulls, as if they had not slept in days.

Sally felt a shiver of disgust crawl down her spine at the sight of them all. She pulled her hands to herself, and looked at the dirt, instead. These people were all rather sickly looking…

… Because they were sick. She felt so stupid as the logic set in. These people had been poisoned by the radiation…

Sally glanced at the man she had injured, Brett, and felt her stomach turn. She had hit him so hard that she made him bleed. And he was already dying…

“I…” Sally looked at Josephine, “I’m sorry, I didn’t know…”

“How could you not?” the male doctoring up Brett snapped at her again. “Or, have you not figured out that Texas was nuked?”

She gulped at his words. Sally knew much more than that.

“Charlie, its okay,” Josephine rested a soft palm on his shoulder. “Perhaps we should rest here for a bit, before continuing on.” She looked back at the other travelers, and a few nodded in response. The rest merely dropped their bags in exhaustion and plopped down where they stood.

Sally folded her arms around her waist and decided it was time to keep moving on, to where ever it was she was headed to.

Taking a step back, and then another, Sally turned to leave the sickly behind when she felt a hand softly touch her arm. “Are you leaving?” Josephine asked.

She was… Sally looked back at the woman. “I…”

“Do you have somewhere you’re heading to? Family or friends?”

This woman was notably curious. Although, behind her, Sally could see the others were looking at her, out of the corners of their sunken eye sockets. Apparently, they were curious, too.

She shook her head. “J-Just traveling.”

“Well, that’s stupid.” She glanced around to find out which traveler had said that. Brett was on his feet again, hanging off the other male who had doctored him up. “You should have a goal or a destination, otherwise you’ll just be walking around in circles.”

“I-”

“Come travel with us,” Josephine added quickly, “I know we don’t look like much, but we’re looking for a hospital that wasn’t destroy by the blast, to settle down at.”

Settle down? There was nothing left of this world, which certainly included hospitals. How could this girl just expect to settle down, after all that had happened?

Sally looked back at the sick people, who were all still staring at her, and noticed the bread and water they passed around. Her stomach groaned, answering for her. The other woman smiled weakly, and took her hand to lead her back to the circle of sick people, and food.

She was seated next to Brett, still a little bitter over his examination of her body, and was given bread and water, while the others conversed with each other.

Sally scarfed down her bread as soon as she had received it, ripping off large pieces with her teeth, and struggling to swallow it whole. She had forgotten her manners in those brief seconds, choking and wheezing, as if it were her last meal. She was halfway through her water when she noticed the many eyes staring at her, like she had gone rabid.

In her embarrassment, she began coughing, and covered her mouth to keep the saliva ridden chunk from falling out and into the dirt.

Brett took her water away so she would not spill it, and gave her back a few weak pats, “Slow down. You don’t want to die before the cancer sinks in,” his words were meant to be funny, and even a few of the other travelers chuckled, but her face soured. In one final attempt, she swallowed the rest of what was in her mouth, and looked up at him.

“That’s not funny.”

“Says the woman who appears to be cancer free. To the rest us, we think it’s damn hysterical,” another male stated, one three spots to her left. The whole group laughed at that.

She looked down at her bread and lost her appetite. Instead of feeling sorry for them, she felt anger. It was not fair… that they had radiation poison, and she did not… Which was stupid, because she should have been grateful that she had not been affected, as far as she knew.

That thought made her feel guilty. She had finally met more survivors, but they all had a ticking clock. Before she knew it, they would all be gone, too.

“Hey, blondie, cheer up. It was just a joke,” another stated. This one was a female with brown hair, a red ball cap and tan capris.

Brett nudged her shoulder, and she flinched away, thinking the act would cause him to bruise again. “Maybe it was rude before the nuke dropped, but now, cancer jokes seem to be the only enlightenment we get around here,” he explained. Sally noticed that she was not the only one who was bothered by it. The healthier looking travelers, Charlie and two or three others, seemed to only smile, instead of laugh at their jokes. And, then, there was Josephine, who seemed completely uncomfortable with the idea, because she had laughed the most.

Sally stayed quiet and chose not to respond to Brett. The whole ordeal was too much for her to handle.

Another one cleared their throat. “So, Sally, where were you when the nuke hit?” a girl asked, this one a bleach blonde with pretty nails, and flat sandals instead of tennis shoes or boots. Sally could just barely see black roots coming in on her scalp. She must have had Mexican or Indian blood in her, because she had tanned really well, compared to the others.

“That question always reminds me of Nine Eleven,” another spoke up, male with brown hair and a Texas tourist shirt. He smiled at her, “I was supposed to be in New York that day, but I had a family emergency and I had to cancel the trip. Name’s Rick, by the way. Rick Jones.” He leaned across the circle and held his hand out for her to shake. Sally followed his gesture, feeling the sores on his wrist as she shook his hand.

She brought her hand back a little too quickly, and had to refrain from wiping her hand on her pants, or the ground. She knew cancer was not contagious, but that did not make the wounds any less gross.

“Yeah, and I’m Bruce Banner,” another guy joked in response to Rick’s introduction, tall with a red beard and no hair. The travelers all laughed and Rick shook his head.

“No, I’m not that Rick Jones. Or, any other Rick Jones you may be thinking of. Just plain old Rick,” he explained.

Sally did not laugh with them. She did not get the reference.

“I’m just messing around. My real name is Tim Piles,” the bearded man stated, “And Rick and I were heading into a gas station just outside of Weatherford when we felt the blast. We own a construction company together. Well… we used to…” he trailed off with a smile.

Weatherford…? Sally knew Dallas and Fort Worth, and that was it. Which direction was Weatherford in?

“I was saying goodbye to my students,” the blonde woman with the nice tan stated, “I’m a sixth grade teacher. Name’s Kelly Bradford,” she leaned across the circle as well, and Sally shook her hand, feeling a little more at ease as she did so, “I, um…” Continuing her story, the woman took a deep breath and drank some water.

The other woman, brunette with the red ball cap, rested a bandaged palm on her shoulder as a sign of comfort.

“I’m okay. It’s best to talk about it, right?” Kelly looked Sally in the eyes, “I was saying goodbye to the students, and seeing them off as the bomb hit. I remember watching the buses fly through the air from the shock wave. When I came to, I could not find any children at all. I assumed they had all died.”

“My… two of my three boys were killed when the bomb hit, as well. They go to, or… rather, went,” the brunette corrected herself, taking a deep, slow breath, “To the same school Kelly taught at. Sam and Josh died in the house fire and… I couldn’t find Nicky after the smoke cleared.” The woman rubbed her nose, and took another deep breath. “…With so many bodies… I searched for hours looking for him… I think I passed out at some point in time. I would still be in that rubble if they hadn’t found me and pulled me away,” she cleared her throat, and reached her hand out, “I don’t mean to ramble on, I apologize. I’m Audry Wess.”

“…And their father?” Sally ignorantly spoke up, returning the handshake.

“Walked out ten years ago,” Audry smiled, “The only way I put myself to sleep at night now is by holding onto the hope of possibly finding Nicky alive somewhere… And by imagining a house falling on top of his father and watching the man’s neck break.”

So, Sally was not the only one with bitter thoughts from the explosion.

“Ha, along with my ex-wife,” the man sitting three spots to her left added, “Name’s Cody Crow. I may not look it, but I’m actually a wealthy business man.” The male did not look it at all. He looked more like a man in his fifties, who had been sick for quite some time, and was just starting to get better. He appeared as though he used to be rather hefty, but had lost most of the weight from his sickness. “The only thing that puts me to sleep at night is knowing that my ex-wife will never get another alimony check for as long as I live, no matter how short that life may be. I finally fulfilled my threat I made to her three years ago.”

Cody motioned to Brett and Charlie, “After four years of fighting, these two gentlemen had just diagnosed me cancer-free,” he went on to explain, “I was taking a stroll in the park when the nuke hit. I ended up in the fountain there, or at least, what was left of it,” he smiled and laughed, “Kinda ironic to finally be diagnosed cancer free, and get radiation poisoning within the same day.”

It was sad was what it was. Not ironic. Sad. And cruel. Sally looked at Brett, feeling even more pity for him than before. “So… You were a cancer doctor…?”

“Oncologist,” he corrected her, “And, technically, I still am,” he motioned to the group of travelers. “Can’t you see I’m enjoying a picnic lunch with my patients?”

Everyone laughed at that, thankful of the joke to lighten the mood.

Sally still did not think it was very funny. She could not bring herself to joke in a time like this.

Charlie cleared his throat, “Brett was running an errand for me while I was with Josephine, running tests in the basement at the hospital we used to work at, in Waco.”

Sally glanced at Josephine, who sat to her right. She looked down, “Charlie and I felt the shock, and almost did not make it out of the building in time. But, I wasn’t affected by the radiation.”

“And we don’t care, one way or another,” a woman spoke up. She had on an old blouse, dirtied slacks, and had half of her face bandaged, “Josephine has kept us together since we started our journey,” Sally could not help but stare at the bandages, and the older woman smiled at her, “I was caught in one of the fires. If it had not been for Charlie and Brett, I would not be alive right now.”

… It was beginning to sound as though this group had started with Charlie and Brett…

“Susan,” she told her, “Susan Delgato,” she chuckled a little, then continued, “I am a personal injury lawyer.” Susan moved some bangs from her face. “Unfortunately, unless we discover who nuked Texas, I will not be able to sue them for attempted murder and assault.”

The travelers laughed again. They sounded more like old references than mere jokes. Apparently, these people had sat down like this many times before, and shared introduction stories with one another.

Sally did not want to share her introduction story. She could claim that she had amnesia, but highly doubted that it would pass with two doctors nearby. Playing with the rest of her bread, she noticed that the other members had stopped talking. When she looked up, Sally realized they were all staring at her.

“…Well…?” Another traveler asked, short and raven haired, with red sneakers. From her running gear, Sally assumed she had been running when the nuke went off, “Aren’t you going to tell us a little about you?”

Some others nodded in anticipation, “We won’t judge you, you know,” Brett stated, “Whatever life you led before the bomb has been left behind in the ash.”

His words were rather poetic, and Sally found herself actually smiling. She sipped her water. “I, um… I’m a desk clerk at an Army base in Dallas. Or… I was. I joined the Army for college, but I’ve never been overseas, just behind the secretary’s desk at my boss’s office, Captain Harkam.” Captain John Harkam, the handsome and brave leader.

“… I was… I was bringing my boss coffee when the call came in, about the nuclear warheads that were targeting Dallas…” she trailed off, and paused, feeling her confidence slip away. Then, the tears began to flow.

Brett, the perverted doctor, leaned over and gave her hand a weak squeeze, and she squeezed his back for support, “I was right in there, in the war room, when I heard the announcement, and I saw the map where the bombs would hit. Then… I ran… I ran and hid when the bombs dropped. I did not try and save anyone… I merely ran… to save my own skin… Like the coward I am…”

Sally breathed in and out slowly, trying to stop the tears.

But, when she had finished her story, no one spoke a word, neither disapproving or encouraging, to her. She looked up and wiped her eyes, still holding Brett’s hand, and found ten pairs of eyes staring right back at her, dumbfounded.

“I…”

“You were in Dallas when the bomb dropped?” another blurted out. He had young sandy blond hair, and wore a mechanics dirty jumpsuit, “As in, the middle of Dallas, right where the bomb hit, where there is nothing left but ash?”

And an old bath tub…

“How do we know you’re not lying?” Charlie asked, frowning.

Sally could see the disbelief in the eyes of the other travelers as well, “I… I’m telling the truth. I did come from Dallas. I’ve been walking for days since the explosion. I…” … Hid in a bathtub in the second basement of a military base in Dallas…

She swallowed her pride, and looked Charlie in the eye, “The world is dead, Charlie. There is nothing left of it except a few random buildings and the cancer left behind by the radiation. What motive do I have of lying to you, or anyone else?”

“Theft,” a darker skinned male replied, “I should know, I spent the last ten years doing time for just that. Without cities or towns, there will be no policemen or government. I guarantee half of the survivors of this war will turn to theft and murder to survive. Why not you?”

Sally cleared her throat, struggling to come up with a response to his accusation. “… With no government around to keep us in check, we will merely have to come up with our own law… And… And the only way to gain a person’s trust is through experience… So, if you don’t trust me now… you will in time,” Sally nodded more to herself, “And, that is all I can offer.”

The man smiled and shook her hand, “Now, that’s a statement I can trust,” he spoke with a deep voice, “Johnson Braves,” he leaned back and took a deep breath, “And to keep up with the theme of the conversation, I was at the basement level of my apartment building, sleeping when the bomb hit. Charlie and Brett have declared me cancer free, so far.”

The runner raised her hand, “That makes three of us, not including you, Sally. Patricia. No last name.”

“And nine infected with cancer,” the blond mechanic added, “Name’s Andy Corman. It will be a pleasure to have you with us,” his smile was pleasant, but he looked rather young to be a mechanic, like he was just out of high school.

The last two did not care to give a background of where they came from, or what they were doing when the bomb dropped, so Sally merely assumed that it did not matter.

Josephine cleared her throat, hoping it would clear the tension as well, “Let’s keep walking for another few hours, then call it a night,” Charlie seemed to agree with her, because he helped the young woman to her feet, then knelt ad began packing the bags up again.

Despite their earlier confrontation, Sally found herself helping Brett to his feet. She could not decide if it was out of guilt or pity and settled on a little bit of both.

The injured male got control of his balance, then looked her in the eye, “Would you stop looking at me like that?”

She was taken back, and her mouth parted in surprise, “Like what?”

“Like I’m some poor helpless fool that has a worse doom than yours, and you’re pitying me because of it. Honestly, Sally, I’ve been looking death in the face every day, for the past ten years of my life. There’s nothing to pity, I know how this works,” he gave a cough, covering his mouth, and she could see his back muscles shutter with tension, “And, I really don’t want your pity right now.”

Sally did not have any response to his comment. She waited until he had his bag adjusted on his back and had started to move with the others. She kept her pace next to his, still unable to treat him as anything else besides a sick man.

“The way I see it,” he began to speak again. Now that they were moving, his pale skin filled with blood, as he took long deep breaths while they walked, “We’re all doomed in the end,” he smiled and then laughed, “You could die before I do, now wouldn’t that be ironic?”

Sally did not laugh. Nor, did she smile. She looked at the group ahead of them, and put effort into her steps to keep Brett’s slow pace. Dying… She was beginning to feel as though she would never die, and instead, would be forced to suffer through everyone else leaving again.

“So… How long have you and Charlie been friends?” she asked, changing the subject. She was getting tired of talking about death.

Brett looked at her and smiled. But, it was not a nice pleasant smile, but rather, one with devilish intentions, “Oh, we were roommates in college. Yeah, we bonded pretty quickly since we were both aiming to be Oncologists. It was only fitting, since both of our parents died of cancer.”

The cruel and bitter joke made her rather angry, and Sally pursed her lips, which only made Brett laugh, “I’m just teasing, you know. Really, you need to lighten up. This whole apocalypse thing is just going to get much more depressing as time goes by,” then, he leaned over and threw an arm around her, which Sally had soon figured out that it was more for support than anything else, “I should tell you the story how I crashed my first car. Now, that will make anyone smile,” Brett looked at her, his blue eyes dancing, masking the sickness from showing itself within his spirit.

So, Sally listened, for the next three or four hours, until night fall, and the group called it a day.

They ate more bread and water and passed around another set of life stories, most of them about drinking, since everyone agreed that life would be much better right now if alcohol was involved. Then, the travelers pulled pillows, blankets, and old clothes from their bags, spread out at least five or ten feet away from each other, and laid down to rest.

Sally rolled over onto her side as to not look at them while she stared at the dirt, wide awake. She felt pity and jealousy at the same time. They had warmth… And she did not… But, they deserved those blankets. And, perhaps it was her way of punishing herself, but she felt as though she had done nothing to earn one.

“You know, it’s much warmer under here, than it is out there,” Sally heard a comment behind her, and rolled over to her other side to find out who it was.

She could see the faint smile of Brett under a large wool blanket, “I don’t mind sharing.”

Relaxing a little, she pushed a shiver away, and mulled over his offer, “… You don’t mind, even after I attacked you…?”

“Not really. I would almost say it was worth the punch, but I’m not actually that shallow. And, that punch really did hurt.”

“You would not be saying that if you weren’t sick.”

“Well, I am sick, and I am saying it,” Brett paused, and averted his eyes to the dirt below him, “Kind of ironic, though. I spend years diagnosing and curing people of cancer, and then I suddenly catch it, not by any real way to catch cancer, but by a nuclear explosion.”

“… I’m sorry…”

“Don’t be. In an apocalypse like this, if you can’t laugh at the cruel irony of life, then you’re not going to survive, in my opinion.”

Sally smiled a little and gave a snort.

“See? That’s what I’m talking about. You’re too serious. You should lighten up, and take the time to laugh at the funny things,” his eyes locked with hers, “You know, you’re much prettier when you smile.”

That caused her to smile even more, “Even when I’m not flashing my girls around?”

“Even more so.”

With that comment, Sally slid closer to him, and under his blanket, where it was many degrees warmer, “Okay, but only because I feel guilty about earlier.”

“Alright,” he slid his arm around her shoulder and brought her further under his blanket, a luxury Sally was envious of him for owning. Then, Brett leaned down and kissed her, receiving one in return for his efforts. Sally was not surprised from the kiss. She had a feeling those were his intentions, and did not mind at all.

“You know, I’ve spent years dating women. But, I never thought this sick angle would get one to come sleep with me so quickly,” he joked, “I should try this gimmick more often.”

“I’d be careful if I were you. I don’t share well,” Sally retorted. It was not as though she had much experience to back up that statement, though.

They both laughed quietly, relaxing against each other. When their voices died down, Brett looked her in the eyes. Then, he kissed her again, taking his time. But Sally could not take her eyes off of his bandages.

“I told you it’s okay. I got what I deserved,” he smiled.

“I… I know… I’m still sorry…”

“You’re not the one who dropped nukes on Texas.”

…Or the rest of the world, she thought to herself.

Maybe it was not her fault, but she did feel responsible, “… I know…” Sally choked out.

Brett kissed her again, but she still hesitated

“Sorry… I’m worried I’ll hurt you…” she whispered quietly, more to herself.

He chuckled lowly, holding back his laughter so the others would not be awoken from her apparently silly comment, “Isn’t that supposed to be my line?” he joked.

“Well, I… Wait, I’m not that inexperienced,” she protested, looking him in the eyes. Sally would spare him the boring background of her senior year.

“Well, I’m not that injured,” Brett added, nodding. His voice of laughter had died to a mere smile. One that she was enjoying more and more after every petty argument.

In the cold darkness of the night, under the bright starry sky, they made love. It may not have lasted very long, but the two did their best to make it a memorable evening. They kept as quiet as they could, and left their clothes on, staying hidden under the wool blanket.

Sally could at least cross off ‘making love under the stars’ from her bucket list, if it had ever been on there to begin with. Brett could as well, no matter how short of a time he had left to complete it.

They stayed close as they slept, him holding her, and she felt as though her life had been turned into a cinematic film, a romantic one, with a happy ending.

 

In the morning, Sally struggled to get warmer, shivering as she moved closer to Brett. In her dismay, he was apparently too asleep to pull her in. Her eyes blinked once, twice, and she sat up slightly, shielding her sight from the bright sun. She could hear distant voices, and only assumed a few of the other travelers had woken up early.

Sally moved the blanket away, no matter how warm it felt, and glanced down at Brett. She had completely misjudged him, and was happy she was able to give him a second chance. Smiling, she leaned down to brush bangs from his face, and her fingers slid across stone cold skin.

Shocked, she yanked her hand away, staring at him dumbfounded for a moment or two. Then, Sally reached her arms forward and shoved him really hard, backing away slightly.

Brett’s body rocked back from her push, then slumped forward again, rolling onto his face. His body did not flinch or move slightly in his deep slumber, to indicate that he had felt her hands.

Her heartbeat began to pick up, and terror sank in. Sally rolled his body back over, then rested her fingers on his neck, then his cheat, where his heart was. There was no rhythmic beat to indicate he was still alive.

She began to shake, her mouth parting as she stared at her lover. Then, Sally scrambled to her feet and screamed in horror, as loud as she could.

Brett was dead.

Terminal (part 1)

Bridget BalesLeave a comment

With a sharp exhale and a vicious kick, Sally MacIntosh pushed away the old claw foot tub to peer at the new world around her…

… Only to discover that it had been decimated.

Those monsters… Those terrible, heartless people…

The buildings, the tree, the cars, and the grass had all been destroyed, wiped off the face of the earth. And it had been done by those horrible people. … Whomever they have been.

A wicked thought crossed her mind, hoping the enemy had blown themselves up in the process. But, she quickly pushed that evil thought back down, trying to bury it under her grief. “Such sinful thoughts are not acceptable,” Sally whispered under her breath, gripping her cross tightly with her left hand, “Especially during godless times like these.”

The words came from her mouth, but Sally did not recognize them as her own.

They could have belonged to an old father figure or priest from the days of her youth, perhaps, but not from “sweet, innocent Sally,” as others would say.

If only they could see her now. And see what she saw, her own eyes wide with disbelief and her mouth agape in aw, as she stood to her feet.

Never in her life could she imagine such calm destruction.

The whole landscape had been flattened, all the way down to the basements, and second basements, in her case. A gray mist hung in the air from the microscopic particles of dust and dirt that floated on by. And, it truly was dust, because that was all that was left of the human population.

Sally covered her mouth at the thought of swallowing the pieces of the people she once knew. Then, she vomited. Her back arched, and she quickly turned to the side and lurched up her last meal, her body quaking in pain.

Oh God, oh God. They were gone. All gone. All of them. Dead. Everyone.

Sally bit her tongue and held her body, shivering violently. She choked back tears, and more vomit, and threw herself against what was left of the concrete wall behind her. Its solid support only had the chilling cold and lifeless metal existence to give. Because, that would be all that was left in this world. No plants, or bugs, or animals, or humans of any kind. Just metal frames. And dust.

Her teeth clattered, staring at the world before her. The haze made it difficult to see more than a few hundred yards. What she could see was a smooth surface of gray powder, that blended with the sky.

Where had the blue sky gone? It had been so sunny earlier, before she had gone into hiding. ‘Save yourself’, were the only words that had gone through her head once the nuclear launch had been announced.

‘Save yourself.’

And she had. She was alive at least. Alive and unharmed, more or less. Her trauma would pass, and she had not begun to show signs of cancer, if she had been affected by the radiation at all. So alive and well. And alone. And scared. And cold. Sally sank to her knees, shivering as she rocked herself forward and back, hitting her spine against the wall. Dallas was supposed to be so warm in the Spring. Warm and sunny and bright, and oh so inviting.

Sally had assumed that it was still Spring. It had been May when the bomb dropped. She could not have been out for more than a few hours. Since the world was now gray, and not black, the sun had to be up there somewhere.

Closing her eyes, she tried to remember her last moment in the city, before it had been obliterated. Traffic was heavy, as always, as she road the bus to work that day. Tom, the bus driver, had seemed rather cheery that morning. His wife’s birthday was the next Friday, and he had a beautiful dinner planned for her. Tom was a rather good cook himself, and he had just started culinary school, in hopes of becoming a chef one day.

Birthdays. Cooking. Home made dinners. Her eyes welled until she could not hold back the tears anymore. Oh, Tom. Jessica would have loved the dinner. It would be one that she remembered for the rest of her life. Sally tried to imagine Tom, and his beautiful wife, sitting in their new kitchen in heaven, while Tom learned to prepare the most divine dishes, alongside culinary angels.

… Because, down here, on this gray earth, there would be no more birthdays or dinners, or cooking schools of any kind. Those monsters blew it all to hell! And damn them all if they did not die along with the rest of the population!

Sally shook her head, and wiped her eyes, smudging dirt against her cheeks. No, she would not think of such bad thoughts, and wish harm on those… people… even if they did deserve it. She would never allow herself to sink to their standards.

Taking a deep breath, she went back to that morning, and tried to remember what else happened before her last moments.

Oh, Gran Milla, the older lady that rode her bus in the morning to her knitting club at the nursing home. The first time Sally had rode that bus, Milla had gotten on two stops after hers, and Sally had given up her seat so Milla could sit down. Ever since then, it had become a habit, and their friendship naturally spawned through conversation. Gran Milla was working on a blanket for her granddaughter’s new baby girl… And, last Christmas, Gran Milla had knitted the softest scarf for Sally that she had ever owned.

Now, that scarf was gone. Along with Milla’s granddaughter and her new baby. And Gran Milla would never be able to finish that adorable baby blanket, because she was dead. Turned to dust, along with all of her yarn…

And Christof, the high school dropout… On their first meeting, he had planned to rob everyone on the bus, but Sally had stopped him before he had gotten a chance to try. He was going to the local library to study for his GED. And after that, she had inspired him to join the Army like she had.

… It had started out as such a good day, for it to end like this…

Even Robert Mills, and his wife and son, the family she had been rooming with, had woken up in a rather good mood. Robert and Samantha had only had one argument before Sally left for work, and it had not been a very loud one, either.

It was odd to think that someone could be friends with random strangers in a big city like Dallas, but this place had a completely different feel to it than New York. So many more bright sunny days. Perhaps, that was why the people were nicer.

The gray new world would not affect too many people, though, on account of there not being any people left, if there were any at all.

Taking a deep breath, Sally finally stood to her feet and began to brush the dirt from her clothes. Yes, she had saved herself, and now she was more useless than ever. Even enlisting in the Army, the only job she could land after basic training was a desk clerk.

Pulling out her hairband, she leaned down and shook out what dust would fall, then put it back up, wishing for at least a hair brush. But, there would be no more hair brushes or combs, or grooming tools of any kind. There was only her hair tie, to hold back her unruly hair. She should have been thankful that the tie had survived the explosion, let alone herself.

Sally was not. She felt alone, and empty, without a purpose. Not even an unimportant one, like her job. Not thankful at all that she had saved her selfish butt.

Her soldier instincts were beginning to kick in, thinking of food and water, and a shelter. Essentials she would need to survive. But, what was the point anymore?

Staring around, she had no clue as to which direction she should head, or even what to look for. It was not like she could tell which way was north or east. Sally could barely tell which direction was up and down.

The street signs and street lights, buildings and trees, did not exist anymore, for her to use as landmarks. She could always head toward the river, but she had no way of telling which direction that was, either. And it was possible that the river had turned into mud, anyway, with all of this dust and dirt.

Sally looked at her feet and kicked the soft gray matter with her shoe. It was like being on the moon. If she had ever wanted to be an astronaut as a child, she could cross that achievement off her bucket list. But, this was not anything like what walking on the moon was cracked up to be. Sure, there was no wind, no sound, and her boot prints would probably last for quite some time. But, there was no one to cheer her on, or applaud all of her hard work, for making it this far.

Her hard, selfish work. When the announcement had been made, and the missiles had appeared on the large map, Sally had taken one look at the one headed for Texas, then dropped her paperwork and ran. All of the other military personnel had stayed behind, working hard up until the last second, to try and stop this doomsday from coming.

Sally was not even supposed to be in that room to begin with. It was restricted access only. Sally had only been in the room because she had followed her boss in, after the call had come in from Washington that announced the attack, carrying his coffee and pointless paperwork she had scrounged around to find for him to sign, because she foolishly had a crush on the gentleman and wanted to spend every waking moment at work by his side, no matter what the excuse was.

The missiles on the screen were like red dots, burned into the back of her skull, that made it impossible to forget. Every major city in the United Stated had been targeted. There must have been over a hundred nuclear warheads… But, Sally had not taken the time to count. She had only dropped her things and ran.

‘Hurry,’ she had thought, ‘Save yourself. Before it’s too late.’

And she had. Sally could not remember anything after that map, except hiding under an old tub in the second basement. If only she had grabbed a coworker, or someone from outside. Or, even her boss. Grabbed him and urged him to hide with her. Or, even an animal of some sort, like a dog or a cat. Then, she would not have been alone, feeling the guilt rise in her chest, smothering her heart and lungs. Or, perhaps if she had not hid at all, and tried to help everyone save America, or at least Texas. Then everyone would still be alive. Or, she would be dead as well, and free from the guilt that choked her from the inside.

And that ever pounding voice in her head, that asked the impending question: ‘What now?’

Sally took a deep breath, and placed one foot in front of the other, slowly repeating the process until she had begun to walk forward. She left the concrete wall behind, and walked away from the rubble and dust and debris that was the Army Depot in Dallas, Texas, and her work. She walked away from the old claw foot tub, and into the new gray world before her.

Traveling in a straight line, Sally walked for three whole days. She watched the gray haze become darker and darker as the sun set. When it was too black for her to see where she was going, she would stop for the night. Sally would then lay down in the debris and take her shirt off to cover her face and hands as she slept, so no dust would get in her eyes and mouth, and suffocate her while she slept.

At some point in time after the sun had risen, she would wake up, tired and sore, and shake the dirt from her shirt before putting it back on. Then, Sally would continue her walk forward, heading in a semi-straight path, she had hoped, to where ever it was she was headed. She could have been traveling in circles for all she knew.

A healthy human would be able to survive at least seven days without water, and thirty days without food as long as they had water. Sally had neither. Nor was she healthy or even hydrated. She had lost her last meal at the start of the first day. And the only liquid she had drunk before then was a large coffee in the morning, and a diet cola at lunch, since she was “trying to lose weight” in hopes of impressing her boss…

Her pace became slower and slower after each day, and several times, she broke down into sniffles and then screamed her heart out, laying on the ground as she did so, crying out woeful questions like, “Why me?”, and “Why now?” She did not bother trying to answer those questions herself, even though they would have been very simple questions to answer.

After her voice had died, and her tears were dry, Sally would stare out at the gray path ahead, and forget her life for just a moment or two. It would feel like hours had passed before she pulled herself to her feet again, dusted the debris away, and continued on her straight path, however slow her pace was.

A thought crossed Sally’s mind as she lay down that evening and curled up inside her shirt to go to sleep. … What if she was not alone? What if… Well, from what she remembered, only the major cities had been targeted in the US, right? Not all of the cities. Closing her eyes that night, Sally pictured the digital map in the conference room, the one with all of the little red dots. If only the large cities had been targeted, then why had she not come across another town by now? Or, the rubble of one…? How far did the blast radius travel?

… And, how far had she traveled…?

Her mind sank back from reality, and slipped into the dream world, where she dreamed of her job and her boss. And, how handsome he was. If only she had told him sooner about how she felt about him. Or, perhaps he had already known? Her boss had never shown an interest in her, at least, none that she had noticed…

She thought of the city she had become accustom to. The tall buildings, millions of people and rushing traffic. Dallas was so alive and active, and that night, she dreamed of the large city filling with an endless rainfall of mud that crushed buildings and choked the life out of her and everyone around her, struggling to kick as she and many others suffocated and drowned in the mud sea…

Sally sat up from her slumber and began to panic as she tried to move her arms. She could not see, and something wet kept her from breathing. Kicking and flailing herself about, Sally heard a long rip. She had torn her shirt in half from trying to free herself.

She sat in the mud, staring at her top in her lap, and then looked around. It was raining…?

In Texas? She supposed it had rained once or twice since she had moved, but Sally could not remember when. The sky was pouring down rain, so much so that the haze had cleared, and she could faintly see large puddles all around her. Sally closed her eyes, opened her mouth and fell back in the mud, splattering it all over herself as she drank from the sky.

The water was lukewarm at best, not cold, and it tasted very bitter. But, it was water, none the less. She would survive, for now, and not die from dehydration. Sally laid in the mud until she fell asleep again, where no dreams would disturb her sleep.

She awoke with a yawn, and nice long stretch, keeping her eyes closed from the bright light up above. She blinked once, twice, and squinted up into the sky. Finally, the sun had appeared.

… The Sun! Sally jumped to her feet and screamed as loud as she could. “Woo! The sun is alive! I’m alive! All alive!”

“And rather topless, if I might point out,” someone shouted back, snapping Sally out of her mind for a moment.

She panicked and quickly covered her bra with her arms, eyes darting all around to find out where the voice had come from. To her left, Sally laid eyes on a group of travelers, at least ten or fifteen, all heading in her direction. The one in the lead, a male, was stopped only ten feet in front of her.

Twins of Another Kind: The Last Time

Bridget Bales1 Comment

For Vincent, the date of conception had been burned into his memory so deeply, that he would never forget it.

It had been nearly a month since their honeymoon, and he had been so busy with work, that Vincent and Kira had hardly spent any time together.

‘Uinseann.’ Vincent heard Kira’s voice echo through his mind as he began to dig his way out of the paperwork that had been piled on his desk throughout the day. Some of it had procured from the office girls whom were too eager to get off early, and had pleaded with him to turn their paperwork in, instead. Most of it came from the King himself, which included his majesty’s daily paperwork he pushed off onto Vincent, and the leftover paperwork that the King had procrastinated in giving to his assistant from the week before.

And audits were due this week, as well.

‘Yes, Kira.’ Her sweet, soft tone brought a small, relaxed smile to his features. Closing his eyes for a moment, he replayed the foreign nickname she had given him, enjoying her beautiful voice. It took him from his desk for a minute or so, and off to a place where only she existed.

Sometimes, it was not enough to just be married to her.

‘What would you like for dinner?’ Pondering on her question, he pushed aside the idea of responding with his normal answer. For once, he found it cliché.

‘Steak?’ he asked, hesitant. Kira was vegan, aside from the small amount of cheese and yogurt she consumed every once in a while, due to her inability to digest animal products. When it came to preparing meat, she did not always deliver the best results. Although, Vincent would argue that a hot meal every night was ten times better than the take-out he used to consume from his bachelor days.

Kira’s cooking, or not.

‘Will you be coming home late?’ That was now the most common question she asked him, since summer was coming to an end.

‘I’m afraid so,’ was his usual response. He had stopped trying to explain why he would be late. Kira got lost during his technical, paperwork explanations, and he had started to feel as though he was making excuses as to why he was not home on time. Vincent was thankful she never accused him of cheating. She was not that type of woman.

‘Okay. Would you like anything else with the steak?’ A glass of wine came to mind, but he was avoiding any type of alcohol after work. It forced him to break the habit of having a glass or two when he had a bad or long day at work.

Kira’s father was a drunk. Not an abusive one, but enough of a drunk for her to not like the smell of it.

‘Anything, really.’ Opening his eyes, he realized he needed to get back to work.

‘Okay.’ She never bothered him more than she needed to, which was nice when he was extremely busy. ‘Have a good day.’

Vincent smiled. ‘I love you, Kira.’

He did not wait for a response, getting back to his paperwork. He never asked what Kira did during the day, since she did not work, and he really never knew. With that knowledge, he was not surprised when she did not answer. She was busy, as he was, and he would leave her be.

His telepathy quieted for him to focus on his work for the next five or six hours.

By the time nine came around, he began packing up his things, and collecting the mail that would need to be dropped off at the post office before returning home.

He packed up his briefcase, slipped on his coat and locked up the office. The janitor would not be in for another hour or two, if he remembered correctly.

It was a twenty minute ride to the post office, and another thirty minutes home. By the time Vincent unlocked the door to his apartment, it was after ten.

He reset the alarm, hung up his coat, put his briefcase away, and headed over to the coffee table. The laptop was where he had left it, and the printouts of houses for sale for Kira to look over were still untouched. He could smell the steak in the oven, still warm from when his wife had made it. However, the apartment was empty.

He pulled his phone out of his pocket, and paused before calling her. A small gut feeling began to grow inside, and he turned to sit on the couch. Dinner would come later, when Kira returned. He propped his feet up on the table and pulled his computer over his lap, opening it up. The endless tabs of houses he had been browsing through still cluttered his screen, and he began flipping through them.

The minutes crawled by slowly, and Vincent found himself reverting to his paperwork, actually finishing it. After paperwork, he put his computer away, and pulled out his rifle, slowly fiddling with it.

Two O’clock was years away, and it was announced when Kira opened the screen door to their balcony, back from whatever endeavor she had traveled off to. When Vincent looked up at her, he smiled, her soft creamy skin glowing against the black background of the night sky.

In a soft, salmon blouse and creamy skirt, Kira shivered. Her long red hair, which was braided down to her waist and tied in a black ribbon, was completely soaked with water. “Uinseann.” She breathed, her soft lips closer to an icy blue.

The black ribbon was the only remnant left of her mother that she possessed. And she had not worn it in weeks. Just after they had gotten married, to be exact. It was the only physical material that she never parted with. Unless it was taken.

Taking things was always Brian’s M.O.

“Kira.” He jumped up and rushed over to her, bringing his arms around her shoulders and taking her in to lean against his chest. The instant he touched her, he knew. It was not the smell of her hair, or the feeling of her skin. Or even her silent posture.

Vincent knew. Kira had been with Brian. Vampires had always left their mark on their prey, and Brian was no different.

“Did you eat?” Her voice was a little more than a whisper. Kira’s voice had always been soft, but this was quiet, even for her.

Slowly, he combed his fingers through her hair, his eyes staring back at himself from the reflection of the balcony glass doors. “No, I was waiting for you.” He knew that something was wrong, and the more she talked, the more he knew that she knew something was wrong, as well. Kira was actually talking to him, physically, not telepathically. And she only spoke when she had something important to say.

“You should eat, Uinseann.” She slowly pulled away and took his hand, leading him to the table. Once again, she was trying to make sure he was cared for, regardless of what her news could do.

“Kira.” Vincent did not move. He pulled back on her hand, not letting her go. His strength was much greater than hers and it was easy to pull her back to face him. “Tell me what happened.” His voice was soft, and stern. It was clear that he was not going to drop it.

Kira met his eyes, her blue ones the same hue as the night sky before it began to turn purple with dawn’s approach. The color they turned when she was miserable.  “I kept my promise, Uinseann. I do not think I will see Brian again.”

She kept her…? Of course he would.

Brian had convinced her to promise him.

No. Kira had promised to give herself to Brian. Looking down in her eyes, Vincent knew that it was never going to stop, unless she stopped. “Kira.” He would not explain to her what she had done wrong. The girl knew herself. Lifting her chin up, he brushed her cheek with his thumb, and then her lips. “Promise me you will never see him again, Kira. Ever.”

His tone was strict, something he never used when speaking to her. It was commanding, and dominating, and he did not care. He wanted her. And he wanted Brian out of the picture, for good. The only way to do that was for her to stop seeing him.

Kira looked surprised at his tone and request. “Vincent…” His name. She had used his name. “I don’t understand… You told me I could keep my promises. Why are you so angry?”

“You know why I’m angry, Kira.”

“But you knew, Vincent. I asked you before I said yes to being your girlfriend. And I asked you again when you asked me to marry you. You should not be angry if you knew.”

“You never told me what your promise was, Kira.” If it had been a year ago, he would have allowed her ignorance to pass as truth. But, he could see in her eyes that she understood. “Promise me, you will never go to him again, Kira.” He was being demanding, but he had to be.

“You never asked.” She stared up at him. She felt the guilt. She did not know why. Maybe it was because she knew that this would hurt him, and she hated seeing him unhappy. She kept silent for a moment, watching him, and trying to understand her own feelings. Finally, she looked away. “I promise, Vincent…” Her words were hardly above a breath.

He brushed his thumb under her eye, expecting a tear to be there. It was dry. He smiled, but only slightly. “Thank you, Kira.” Leaning down, he kissed her softly. He would prepare a nice hot cup of tea and bundle her up in blankets to chase the chill away. Vincent would make sure that Kira never regretted her decision.

Gliding his hand down to her waist, he gently took ahold of the end of her braid, and held the ribbon within his grasp. Now, it was truly over.

… At least, he had believed that, up until he held his newborn. Smoothing the white filaments along Asher’s little head, Vincent leaned back as he rocked the child gently. Brian had so cleverly woven himself within their lives, leaving his mark like bleach stain on their children.

The younger male had broken the only rule he followed in his code of women. No adultery. Vincent still should not have been surprised. It was Kira and Ashley; the two Brian could not get enough of.

He pushed the shock away, and settled his mind in a state of content. He would make Brian pay, in a way the younger man would not be able to handle, emotionally.

Brian had left something behind with Kira, and Vincent would make sure Brian never got it back. Asher was his and Vincent would show Brian how happy Asher would be with him, forcing Brian to watch from the outside, looking in.

And he would make Brian regret ever messing with his wife.

 

Previous – Twins of Another Kind

Road Rage 2

Bridget Bales2 Comments

With the wind blowing as harsh as it could, I turned off the freeway and stopped at the first convenience store in sight. Parking in front of another car, our noses barely touched. I shut the engine off, and opened the door, pushing hard against it. When the door finally swung open, it banged against its hinges and stayed put.

I covered my face with my sleeve to keep the wind out of my eyes as my jeans flapped against my legs. Slaming the door, I walked around to the back to see the damage that girl had done to my car. There were only a few scratches, from what I could see through the dirt.

I should have taken her license away, she was driving like a mad man, but I felt a little bad. The instant I asked for it, she started crying all over herself. I could not have imagined what she would have done if I had given her a ticket. Letting her off with a warning, I sent her on her way. But, I still had to send in an incident report. The dust storm hit soon after. If I had simply ignored the fender bender, I would have just barely missed it.

I locked the car, and headed inside, hungry for anything that was prepackaged.

There was a layer of dirt covering the windows, and when I opened the glass door, I thought it was going snap off.

The clerk managing the counter simply looked at me before going back to her book. I whispered a “Sorry”, and pulled it closed again.

Grabbing a few powdered donuts, a twinkie, and some smart water, I went over to the counter to pay for them. “Crazy weather we’re having, isn’t it?”

She did not answer,and simply rang me up. With smeared on lipstick and eyeshadow, her dark eyes were bloodshot, and her lips looked like she had just sucked on a lemon.

The lady tossed my food in a plastic bag, took my money, and shoved the prepackaged junk across the counter. I took that as a sign to ‘get the hell out’.

I tied the bag and held it tight in one hand, pushing the door open to conquer the weather again. It blew the glass to the edge of its hinges, tossed in a gust of dirt, and I covered my face to march through the wind.

The weather tossed the other way, and the door slammed, just as I slipped through. Heading back to my car, I searched for my keys with my eyes closed, and shoved it in the key hole to unlock the door. I tossed the bag to the side, and climbed in, cranking the engine.

The heater went to full blast, and I rubbed my hands and wiped the dust from my face. Turning the lights on, they shined into to the other car, and brightened the watery eyes of a woman who sat in the driver’s seat. She did not move, did not say anything. The car was not even turned on. Her cheeks were wet, and her brown eyes were glossed over.

Leaving the car on, I got out to fight with the wind again, and approached her vehicle. As a cop, it was not my job to come to the aid of every woman who I found crying in an abandoned parking lot, but as a gentleman, it was my duty to take care of damsels in distress.

The car door slammed and I walked around to her driver’s door. “Excuse me, Miss.” I knocked on the window. It rolled down, but the lady did not look my way. “Are you alright?”

And that was when I noticed a man with a gun in the back seat, with the barrel against her temple.

Prequel: Road Rage

Sequel: Sugar

Twins of Another Kind

Bridget Bales2 Comments

Sitting in the lobby, the older male rocked the new born silently, his eyes closed and a tired smile placed upon his features, as his bride rested in the other room. Despite coming into this world only a few hours earlier, the new born had wide eyes that held a silent wonder.

Eyes that were like his father’s.

Vincent could not help but smile. And yet, he hurt on the inside. No matter how many times he tried to push the thought away, or wish to wake up from this dream, when he opened his eyes, the problem still stared him in the face, with such curiosity.

Vincent’s own eyes were a simple brown that held knowledge and wisdom. This child’s eye color was lighter blue, like his mothers. But, the form, and curiosity within it, belonged to his biological father.

His own hair, long and raven, bound by a hair band against his neck, was not the same type and color of the baby who he held. No, this one’s hair was light, almost clear, just like his father’s.

Vincent closed his eyes again, that pain hurting deep inside of him. He could not change this child, nor could he stand to be hateful of the situation.

He held the child of another man. The child his wife gave birth to.

It burned on the inside. His body trembled. He knew the man well. Very well. His own student.

Yet, there was no hate, and no question as to why. He knew the answer. And when he opened his eyes again, to look down at the new born, there was no worry either.

He would raise the child, and love the boy as his own. He knew he had no other choice; however he still wanted to raise the child.

Hearing the small whispering of another, Vincent’s eyes looked up, and across from where he sat, at Evan. The younger male held a new born as well, the twin of his own child.

Kira and Ashley; best friends who could have been sisters. His and Evan’s wives had given birth to two little boys, that were not their own.

“Evan, if you-”

“No, it’s cool,” Evan looked up. His eyes looked less painful, and more understanding. “I want to.” There was a difference in the way both Vincent and Evan viewed the father of their new children. Whereas Vincent cared for the male he had known for so long, Evan wanted to kill him.

Vincent gave a soft smile, and that pain inside seemed to fade. Evan did not have that pain. There was no hate, or no strain. Evan loved the child, perhaps a lot easier than Vincent ever would. He looked back at his own bundle of joy. Yes, he would.

People would know. It would be hard to hide, with the way both children looked. He rocked the one in his hands, still thinking of a name. He would train the child well, and tell him all about his father.

Would… would the father ever come around to see his two boys?

Vincent looked at the new born again. Perhaps. However… The ‘father’ had not been present in their lives for at least nine months…

“Ian.”

Looking up, he glanced at the other male. Ian?

“I’ll name him Ian.”

He smiled. Evan simply accepted it, without question. With a small chuckle, Vincent looked at his own child, the child that was not his, but was, and kissed him on the forehead. “Asher.”

Evan smiled from across the room. Standing, the younger, light haired male moved over to where Vincent was and sat down next to him, holding his own child, but not his, up next to the brother. “Ian and Asher,” he spoke.

Vincent chuckled again. Yes, they were going to raise the children of a man who they both disliked greatly. A man who had loved, and owned both of the women they were now with. A man who they were greatly indebted to for pairing them with his girls. And a man who had given up the ones he loved so that Kira and Ashley could have a better life.

Vincent glanced at Evan. Had they really won the girls if they gave birth to his children? Evan gave a small smile.

There was only one explanation to what had happened. One sentence, two words: Brian Scarla.

Twins of Another Kind: The Last Time – Next