Color's End
Rated: T for mild-ish gore
Synopsis: The world has ended and two men are alone, until they meet three others like them. One-Shot.
"Do you want some tea?"
"Don't be silly, tea hasn't been around for a few years or something… I dunno, I stopped counting, and stop teasing me." He said tartly, turning away and pulling his hood tighter.
"I wasn't teasing, I found some tea." The other replied, unfazed. He kept his voice low, as if raising it would break some fragile, invisible boundary.
The first turned to him, his amber eyes wide and fearful. "Really?"
"Yes, really." He stepped forward and onto a cracked tile. It crackled and he froze. Nothing moved. Nothing changed. His shoulders slumped and he held out the dusty tea bag.
The other plucked it up with dirty, long fingernails and dusted it off. He sniffed it, smiling. "Thank you… I guess we could drink some tonight."
"Yeah…" He brushed the dust that the tea bag spewed onto him on his jacket and pushed back his watery-yellow hair. He turned and went back to searching the sagging, sad drawers.
After some time: "Al?"
"Hmm, what? Yeah?" The blonde glanced at the other.
"Al, I wonder… do you ever stop seeing color sometimes? I mean, when I look at you I remember it exists but—I mean-Forget I asked, it was a stupid question." The other turned away and crouched to his knees, picking at the peeling linoleum tiles. He slowly cast his eyes towards the tall man, worn and smiling softly. His skin was papery and lack-luster and his hair was a washed yellow, falling on flatly, but his eyes were blue. They pierced through the darkness like a spot of sky through the clouds.
Not that anyone remembered the sky, it had been so long.
Al, or Alfred, sat besides the other, Kiku, and crossed his legs. He laid a hand on the bony shoulder and sighed. They didn't speak. The creaking of the floor and stale whispering of the wind spoke for them.
Finally Kiku stood and held out a hand for Alfred.
Alfred chuckled dryly and raised himself, slinging his back pack over his shoulder and trudging out.
A cold air burst at them and they stepped onto the grey, cracked ground and began walking.
"Do you ever think we'll meet anybody around here?"
"You always seem to ask that question, K."
Kiku laughed shortly and shrugged.
"Even though I'm the optimist here."
"Shut up, Al. You know I'm only asking to fill the silence."
"Why does the silence need filling? It's full as is."
"Full?"
"Yeah, I mean, the silence is very thick…"
"A poet as always."
"I wasn't kidding."
"I know you weren't." Kiku turned to him, stopping in the middle of the dirt road, kicking up dust behind him. The trees, sagging and white and blank, rustled lightly. Kiku looked Alfred in the blue, blue eyes and furrowed his brows. "You're a soldier, right?"
"I was a soldier." Alfred muttered.
"Was, is, same difference. Anyway, if I didn't take you so seriously I wouldn't have joined you."
"You didn't really join me, K."
"Well, yeah I guess…" Kiku bit his lip and turned, tightening his pants and adjusted his sullied shirt.
Alfred opened his mouth, a syllable catching, and closed it. He knew talking to Kiku in this mood would lead nowhere. He huffed and followed Kiku, checking their bleak surroundings.
The dirt road winded through what seemed to once be a forest and past several clumps of rubbish. Kiku glanced at them, wondering if anything would be hidden that useful, and shook his head. A flurry of flies had swarmed out of the hive of ripped plastic and soiled cardboard.
The road curled around a square, blue building. Alfred pointed to it and cocked a brow. Kiku looked hesitant and tightened his grip around the sleek form protruding from his pocket. He nodded slowly.
The two clambered up the grimy steps, laced with vines and their edges burnt. Kiku stooped down and prodded a mass of red. He lifted his fingers and found a slight red imprint on his finger tips.
Alfred was edging towards the crooked door, creaking as it hung ajar.
"Stop, Al." Kiku whispered harshly and grabbed Al's leg.
Al stopped and glanced questioningly at Kiku.
Kiku lifted his fingers and showed the stain, then pointed to the crimson blob. "Someone's been here."
Alfred rolled his eyes and looked in, it was pitifully dark and smelled of mold. He licked his lips and bent down, "Kiku, it was probably some wounded birds. There are still some of them out there. All the people are long gone, besides… It's dark in here and the moss at the door hasn't been stepped in." He nodded towards the mass of green which was still perfectly round.
Kiku nodded warily and stood. "Well, okay." He plucked out the pistol from his pocket and readied it. Alfred felt his pockets for his own weapons and placed a hand behind his shoulder, feeling the slim barrel of his rifle. He pulled it over and readied it as well.
They stepped through gingerly, Alfred first. He leaned in, blinking quickly to adjust to the dark. He aimed the rifle, sweeping the area. There was no sign of life, but a drip-drop of water. The source of that sound, found quickly by their thirst, lead them to a rusted pipe at the corner of the small room. The room must have only been a waiting room for a small-time dentist or doctor. A soggy chair mourned in the corner, but a pile of debris that must have been the other chairs. A cracked TV set hanged from the wall, a long crack tailing down from it and shadowing onto the floor. The faded green wall-paper curled at the edges. Kiku leaned down besides the water and frowned.
"It's not that dirty, there must be a source somewhere. We should find it, we're running low on water anyway." He whispered and straightened, examining the room further.
Alfred was peering into the hallway. It smelled faintly of chlorine.
"Gas mask?" Kiku suggested, digging one up from his back pack.
Alfred nodded and held out a hand. His other one still held the rifle.
Kiku ignored the hand and snapped the gas-mask over Alfred. Alfred stepped onto the hard floor, his heel clicking. The hall stretched down. Several doors were sealed shut by time and mold. One door stood open, an examining table untouched by time and void of life was directly to the left. The table had animal designs and numbers. A small baby scale was tucked into the corner, above it hanging a stethoscope.
Alfred's arm knocked over a bottle and it clattered to the floor loudly. It rang and Kiku winced.
"What was that?"
Alfred looked at Kiku, "Oh, sorry, I knocked over that bottle." He picked it up and set it on the counter.
"I know that," Kiku replied sharply, his face even sallower. Alfred didn't know it could get more pale.
"Then why did you ask?"
"It wasn't me who asked."
Alfred grabbed his rifle and readied it, sweeping the scene. "Whoever you are, come out! We won't hurt you so long as you don't help us. We can help you." He said, articulating precisely and loudly.
They crept down the hall. Kiku pointed to the left, where he thought the sound came from. They continued that way, passing closed doors with rusty signs hanging on an edge. One door moved.
Kiku grabbed it and flung it open, aiming his pistol at someone's greasy forehead.
The barrel trembled, Kiku couldn't keep his hands still. He had never been in this position before.
The forehead belonged to a young man, taller than Kiku but bending over slightly. His ashen hair fell below his chin and swayed slightly. His dark blue eyes bulged in fear behind cracked glasses. "Oh God, don't hurt me." He gasped, his arms spread out against the door frame. "Or if you do, hurt only me, please. Do anything to me just don't kill them."
Kiku registered only when Alfred pushed his hand down that the man was begging and that fat tears were rolling down his cheeks, creating roads amongst the dirt.
Alfred didn't look directly at the man but slung the rifle back over his shoulder and stared at the inside of the room. He murmured something about not hurting anyone and having first aid.
Kiku stepped back, having felt the man's hot breath on his face. He looked the scrawny body over, the clothing was a simple, worn jacket and the pants were frayed jeans. He wore fingerless gloves and bit his fingernails, shivering.
He followed Alfred, throwing the stranger a don't pull any fast ones, ya hear look.
The room had a purple loveseat squashed into the corner and a light bulb swinging from the ceiling. Their shadows danced in the harsh white light. Two pairs of eyes stared at Kiku and Alfred. One pair belonged to a woman with a large bust and light brown hair. She spoke rapidly with them, her accent Ukrainian and her tones desperate.
"Hello, I'm Katrina, please do not kill him. He has done so much for us that we cannot ever repay him. We literally owe him our lives and if he was killed because of us, then we will never forgive ourselves, I promise you that. We, or I," her eyes darted to the timid figure besides her, "will do anything you desire, just so long as you don't hurt him. I hope you understand this, I mean we really do love him and I'll do ANYTHING, anything, really and—"
"Woah, lady, stop." Kiku broke in. Her lip was quivering, but no tears escaped her eyes. "We're just as afraid as you are. No need for compensations. Maybe we could help each other. Anyway, we found blood outside and want to know who is hurt."
She pointed to the person beside her. It turned out that he was not in fact a small, timid person, but locked in a fetal position and quaking with pain.
Kiku knelt down and gently asked what the matter was.
The figure uncurled and turned his blonde head away. Kiku looked at the cradled object in their lap. He finally realized that the twisted slab or red and shredded fabric was his arm. Kiku blew air through pursed lips and laid the moaning man down. "Shh," Kiku muttered and dug around his pack. He pulled out a blade and looked at the man, "This will hurt. A lot. Scream as loud as you want. I don't have anything to lessen the pain, but listen. We need to do this, because if we don't, then it will kill you for sure. Gangrene. You understand?"
The man nodded weakly and shut his eyes, biting his bottom lip.
Kiku sighed and cut away whatever was left of his shirt. He traced below his shoulder and marked where the pink flesh ended and the red mass began. He pushed the arm outwards more so and used the rest of the shirt, rapping it around the bicep tightly, so what little skin remained turned white. "This knife isn't going to cut it."
The woman, who watched unflinchingly, nodded. She stood and exited the room. While he waited, Kiku looked for Alfred. Alfred was lingering by the scared man from when they entered.
His mousy expression lay in shadow and Alfred's brows knitted.
"Matthew?" Alfred asked curiously, hesitantly.
"Yeah?"
"Matthew Williams? Brother to Alfred Jones? Same one?"
"Yeah."
"Oh."
"And you are Alfred, I guess?" Matthew's voice trembled.
Alfred nodded and they burst into tears, hugging each other and weeping onto the other's shoulders. They pulled away and touched one another's faces, as though finding proof that they existed.
"You're alive!" Alfred cried.
"And so are you." Matthew smiled and they hugged again.
Kiku watched, bewildered. He didn't notice Katrina had returned until she prodded his shoulder gently.
"Oh," Kiku turned to her and picked up the saw. "Ready?"
The man didn't answer, his head lolled.
"Is he dead?" Katrina asked pitifully.
"No, unconscious…" Kiku positioned the saw and began sawing. Small droplets of blood spurted, but the wrap blocked most of it.
The man woke when Kiku reached what remained of the bone and shrieked. His scream sliced through and he kicked frantically. Alfred and Matthew grabbed the legs, Katrina held the other arm and gently soothed him.
Kiku stopped.
The other three, the man was still screaming, looked at him. "What are you waiting for?" "Just do it!"
The man stopped and Kiku shook his head.
He panted and Kiku removed the blade. "Last words? You know you're dying. You knew ever since you hobbled in here. Why did you follow?"
The man opened his mouth and pink saliva bubbled out, dribbling down his chin. He coughed and spoke hoarsely, "Didn't want… to disappoint… So sorry… Why does time… Only flow forwards…?" He then laid back and died.
"How did you know he was about to die?" Katrina looked up, dropping the man's hand and shutting his eyes.
"I can just tell I guess." Kiku shrugged, "What was his name?"
Katrina sniffed. "Don't know."
They didn't bury the man, but gave him a brief funeral. They scoured the building for extra supplies and slept in the first room, the one with animals printed on the cover with little numbers in the corners. In the morning, or what Kiku guessed was the morning based off of the sky being just a little bit lighter, they collected their things and headed outside.
They stepped into the cold, world, gray and dying. Then they set off, past the white of trees. The colors drained and soon even Alfred's eyes stopped being so blue.
One day, when they finally reached the end of their journey, Kiku turned to Alfred and said:
"I guess this is the end."
Alfred nodded as they stared towards the gray desert, the sun a starchy white, and the sky a pale color. It was almost blue.
"Remember when you asked if I stopped seeing colors."
"Yes."
"Well, I did."
"I did too," Matthew and Katrina interjected softly.
The two in front nodded.
Alfred continued: "Yeah, I did. I wonder how. It's not scientifically possible, I don't think."
Kiku shrugged. "Maybe we didn't stop seeing color, maybe the world stopped having color."