Chapter 10: Fire

Rated: T

Warnings: Language, graphic themes

Disclaimer: still nothing. shit.

A/N: Here we go. Sorry if the plot is going sorta slow, but I have a plan. I swear. Which is like a first for me. Alice In Candyland, I just winged it, and honestly that didn't turn out well. I honestly just made it all up on the spot. But I have a plan this time, and I'm sticking to it, so bear with me.

There was fire in my chest, sparking up and exploding like the fire in those glass bottles with every shot I took. Spencer sat opposite me, half-way through his bottle. I was a third of the way through mine. The others had gone to bed. I guess we were those sad, lonely, night-drinkers. Every group has 'em, I guess, and it's the end of the world. Who cares? I don't.

"You don't talk a lot." I said, voice slurring and spluttering a cough after another swig.

He gave a spacy giggle. "What's there to say? Nuthin. Like… there's just nuthin. *hic* Before, people talked about video games. Movies. Parties. I dunno, I never had a lot of friends. But people talked about the shit they did. What do we do? We kill dead people… living people… fuck. We're not even living. Just surviving. Dunno why I stick around, this sucks."

"Whoa." I said, a bit too drunk to wrap my head around all that. "...living people?"

He exhaled deeply and frowned. "Yeah. A group of guys tried to take Briley. Don't know what for, but we all know it aint for anything good. I mean, she's tiny. *hic* They wouldn't take her to recruit her. Rape and or cannibalism, that's what they were doin'. There are groups. We've seen them. Our group is small, so we always managed to hide if they come close. But we've seen it happen. One time Briley didn't hide well enough, and three men grabbed her, got her on the ground and tried to strangle her. We killed them. This is life now."

"Holy fuck." I said. "Holy. Fuck."

"Yeah."

"Seriously. Fuck. I didn't know about those groups, man.. I knew there were bigger groups of people that like attacked people and stuff. I was attacked by them, they stole my shit but I got away. Barely. Fucked my arm in the process. So like, they could have cannibalised me or something?"

"Yeah. Probably. Think about it. Lots of strong people group together. Enough to protect themselves against the dead. Any less, and there would be risk. But the problem is food. Most canned food has been looted, there's not a lot left, so what do they eat? Fuckin' people, dude. Smaller groups can survive on scavenged food."

"That's… ugh."

"I'm gonna puke… or pass out..." He mumbled, and staggered over to his room.

"Nighty night." I called back.

I sat there for a while, thinking about Briley. What happened to her. What is happening to the people that managed to survive. What could have happened to me. If we could clear the city, set up actual barricades around the whole thing, find survivors, we could build up a community. A proper one. With farms and food and not cannibalism. Eventually, after finishing another third of the bottle, I passed out.

The next day was hard. Spencer and I went straight to the coffee machine. I'm pretty sure that was the strongest coffee I ever enjoyed. We set off after breakfast again. I was okay. My head was a little sore and I was a little tired, but being uncomfortable in stressful situations was all too familiar. This was a walk in the park. My hangovers were never really bad, anyway.

So, the hangover isn't where I went wrong. It was the fucking shoes, two sizes too big for me. The sole had completely ripped off my old pair I had been wearing after yesterday's big mission, so I didn't really have a choice.

I went into one of the buildings. We had to double over the right street, thoroughly check everything. Since we were pretty sure we'd gotten everything, we split up to cover more ground faster. And one of those fucking things came out of nowhere. I ran, not feeling comfortable with a knife alone. I got the fuck out of that house and ran out into the street, tripping over the steps and twisting my ankle. It stumbled towards me, and I was pretty sure I was gonna die, until an arrow shot through the air and into its rotting head.

Jackson and Daniel carried me back to the factory, and went back to their job.

I sat in the worker's quarters, leg up on the table, trying not to let myself feel the pain too much. Sure, I've had much worse, but it was still pain. I waited. They had to leave to get back to the group, who were waiting in the barricaded area in front of the gates, because they had a lot of work to do. Clear up the right, and do the left too. They went and told Wonka I was here with a twisted ankle, and asked him to take care of it.

After half an hour, he finally came, pushing a wheelchair out of the elevator.

"My apologies, I had to finish off something important." He said.

"No worries. Um, I can walk. I don't need that"

"Can you really?" He halted. "Walk over here."

I hoisted myself up off the couch and managed to get myself into a standing position. I winced as soon as I put weight on it. My ankle was already swelling, and it felt wobbly yet stiff at the same time. I took a few painful steps, before my ankle gave way and I fell over again, crying out in pain as I felt it bend.

"I thought so. Looks like a more severe sprain, then. Hop in." He wheeled the chair over to me, and helped me into it before pushing me into the elevator. The sweet smell that radiated from him filled the small space, and I tried to not be too obvious and creepy when I inhaled it.

We made it to the puppet hospital, and he guided me up onto the bed. I noticed how even though his hands touched me, his body was as far away as it could get. The way someone would hold a baby who just puked all over itself. His face, although wearing a polite smile that could almost resemble a grimace, was uncomfortable. I helped myself out as much as I could, to reduce touching, because I could tell that made him anxious. He was like this when he fixed my arm, too. Kinda unfortunate, since I enjoyed his touch. I mean, he was hot and he smelt magnificent. Why wouldn't I.

He brought out the bandages from the cupboard.

"Hey, you want me to do that?" I asked. "I can reach."

"Huh?"

"You seem uncomfortable enough just helping me onto the bed, so I imagine going near someone's feet would be a lot worse."

"Oh. Heh. Sorry.. just not used to the whole human contact thing, y'know?"

"I get ya." I propped my foot up on the bed and lent over, pulling up my jeans to wrap the bandage around my ankle.

"Do you have crutches or anything? I can't really walk on it. I don't think wheelchairs are very efficient."

"I do indeed." He went over to one of the storage rooms and came back with a pair of crutches.

"Thanks." I hauled myself up and positioned them under my arm, gave him a smile. "I can take it from here. I think I'll be able to get back to the group. Maybe sit on top of the barrier for crossbow duty… somehow." I looked at my arm cast.

"Uh-uh. You're not goin' anywhere, missy. That's a severe sprain we're lookin at, you need at least a few days rest so it has the chance to heal properly. With your arm, I don't think you'd be doing anything out there."

"Oh joy. A few days of being stuck here, doing nothing."

"I'll keep ya company. Maybe you can help me with a few things, actually."

"Like what?" I couldn't complain. Being in the company of a nice smelling hot person is quite enjoyable.

"It's a secret. You'll find out."

"That sounds ominous."

"It is ominous."