I'm not much used to writing fanfics, but this story has been developing in my head since I saw the movie. Sorry if it seems like its slow-moving, I wanted to evoke a primarily sense-driven experience, because that's one of the things I admired so much about the movie - its incredibly visceral.
Anyway, thanks for at least clicking on it, and I hope at least a couple of people out there enjoy it :)
I stood at the end of a twisting canyon, the dusty rocks muted and jagged under the night sky. To my left was a rock fall which completely blocked that canyon end. At first I thought the rocks were piled in strange shapes towards it, but then my vision shifted, as often happens under moonlight, and I saw that what I'd taken for stones and boulders were in fact the wrecks of many metal vehicles.
I trembled a little with fear before reminding myself that this must all be a dream. Holding that thought close, I stepped forward timidly. As I drew level with the start of the wreckage, the scene shifted again, and revealed many of the smaller rocks and wreckage to be human bodies, crushed and mangled by the sea of metal and rock. My throat dry with horror, I picked my way through the wreckage aimlessly, coming to a stop by the final rock fall which choked the canyon. The shadows were dark and menacing, shot with the occasional glitter of twisted steel. Half covered by rubble was the outline of a huge truck, some kind of oil tanker it must've been, but now it was split and rent in a dozen places.
I reached out my hand and touched the cold pitted surface of the tanker's ruin. How real the sensation seemed, solid beyond dreaming. Feeling a tremor of doubt, I half-sat, half-fell onto an outcropping of rock, folding forward until my head rested on my knees and my arms dangled by my sides. The sand was cold as I stroked it under my fingers, the sensual reality of it quickening my fear.
I'm going to wake up any second, I told myself. Or this will just slip into some other half-dream, hopefully one not as visceral. Suddenly something touched my trailing fingers, and I jumped up with a squeak of alarm. That had definitely felt real. I looked down, ready to run or stomp, depending on what the dream brought me.
I almost did stomp on it, writhing there feebly in the dust, a white hand clawing slowly at space. But compassion and curiosity won over repulsion, and I knelt beside it cautiously. Gently I touched the palm with my fingertips, and was rewarded with a convulsive grip. In a daze I let the fingers of my other hand crawl up the wrist to a forearm hidden under a curve of metal.
And then something unexpected and truly dreamlike happened; I felt as if warmth was draining out of me into that cold arm, progressively faster and faster. With a gasp, I dropped to my knees. The dream became a nightmare, as the palpitations of my heart beat slower and the life ebbed out of me until I fell face forward into the dirt. Still, the white hand clenched around my fingers and my other hand seemed glued to that sinewy arm. They seemed warmer than my own now, as if I could feel the vibrancy of the bloody pumping through them.
Wake up! I screamed to myself as the darkness of oblivion closed over me.
It was the grey light of dawn when I blearily opened my eyes. I was lying on my back in the dust and I felt as weak as a kitten. I was horribly aware of the pebbles digging into my flesh through my nightshirt. I stifled a sob; either this was the most lucid dream ever, or I was actually awake, in a strange world. Out of sight I heard some kind of scuffling and shakily managed to prop myself up on one elbow to see what it was.
About 12 feet away a bizarre figure was rummaging through the rubble by the tanker cab. He was male, and almost preternaturally pale, with a shaved head. His only clothing was black cargo pants and biker boots. On the thin side of slim, I could still see the definition of his arm and torso muscles from this distance, as well as the raised outlines of some intricately massive scarring on his chest.
Apprehensively I tried to raise myself up to a sitting position, making my head spin as I slumped back down. At the sound of this, the strange figure jerked his head in my direction and came jogging over. He squatted down beside me with another jerky movement, and tentatively reached a hand towards me. I flinched back automatically, and he pulled his hand back, putting both palms up towards me in a gesture which clearly was meant to reassure. This close I could see his eyes, pale shards of blue surrounded by some kind of black makeup or grease. He looked at me inquisitively.
"Please, don't hurt me." I whispered, unable to get the energy to speak louder.
He cocked his head to one side as if the idea puzzled him. "You brought me back." He said, as if that was an answer. I noticed that his lips were scarred with vertical marks. Combined with the black around his eyes, it seemed designed to give him a skull-like appearance. In spite of his fearsome look, I realised he was quite young. I also noticed that what I'd taken for skin pallor was actually some kind of body paint, flaking and smudged.
I opened my mouth to say something, I'm not sure what, probably beg for my life, but the weakness was making black spots float in front of my eyes, and all that came out was a feeble groan. With that same clumsy style of movement, he leant forward and dribbled some liquid between my unresisting lips. At first I thought it was water, but then realised that strangely it was milk, creamy and cool. He waited while I gulped a little and then returned the flask to one of his cargo pockets. Without warning, he picked me up and carried me a little way, before depositing me gently in the lee of a large rock.
I watched curiously as he trotted off, back to rummaging in the wreckage. His movements were gawky and unself-conscious, sort of like a large puppy. The sun climbed over the cliffs off the canyon, warming them to a rusted red. A shaft of light crossed me and I looked down at my hands folded in the lap of my nightshirt. Somehow that was the final evidence for me that I was not dreaming, that this was all reality, as nightmarish as that seemed.
My musings were interrupted by the return of the stranger as he dropped what looked like a bullet belt near my legs. I looked up at him and he flashed me a goofy lopsided grin. "Gotta get it before the scavs do." He nodded and returned to his search.
The warmth of the morning sun combined with my extreme weakness must've caused me to doze, because the next thing I knew, I was being carried by him and rolled under part of the wrecked tanker. It stank of petrol and blood, making me choke a little. He knelt as if to follow me under, and all of a sudden something impacted the metal and ricocheted away. In a flash he had straightened up and darted out of my sight. More whining impacts struck the tanker, and I realised with a shock they were bullets.
Lowering my head improved my limited field of view; I could now see my stranger fighting two figures. I assumed they were men, but it was hard to tell because their faces were covered in strange horned helmet/gasmask combinations, long dredds swinging as they jabbed flashing knives. My pale stranger was fielding their attacks with more agility and grace than I'd given him credit for, but he had no weapon. As I watched he stooped and brought up part of a car door to shield himself; in one balletic movement using it to wrench away one of the knives. A swift backhand with the door felled one attacker, but the other just leapt over his fallen comrade, slicing towards the young man's throat.
A shadow crossed in front of me; another enemy had joined the fray. I could hear the sound of a gun being loaded, but all I could see was a pair of dusty boots, and a glimpse of pale hairy leg. My stranger had his back to this new enemy, and my heart stopped when I saw he was unaware of the danger that stood behind him. Desperately, I lunged with all my strength, grabbing the unseen leg above one boot. I simply meant to trip this attacker and give time for the pale man to react, but as my hand closed over the greasy skin, I felt a strange glueing sensation, and the sensation of warmth and energy flowing into me.
My enemy dropped as if he was poleaxed, sending up a cloud of red dust. My hand still seemed glued to him, and I was pulled forward with his motion, banging my head on the rim of my metal hiding place. I sprawled in the dust next to the prone figure, still feeling that rush of warmth and life spreading through me. Remembering the immediate danger, I scrambled to my knees, looking for a rock to beat my enemy with; but the sight of his staring and glazed eyes told me that was no longer necessary.
I knelt there panting, energy coursing through me. My head was pounding and it took a moment for me to come back to the present as a hand grabbed my shoulder. It was the pale stranger, breathing heavily himself, and with flecks of blood and oil streaking his form.
"Time to go!" he yelled urgently, dragging me to my feet. Dazed, I allowed myself to be pulled over to a motorbike, trying to ignore the two sprawled bodies nearby. He leapt astride it and pulled me down behind him. I almost fell off as he revved it into life, but managed to grab his waist with both hands. Clinging on for dear life, I pressed myself against his back, feet scrabbling for some purchase. We were already going fast enough to make my hair whip violently around. All I could hear was the roar of the engine, and I was too afraid to look up to see if we were being followed.