Chapter 10
Reconstitution
Three days ago, I found myself leaning against the fender of the police car, trying to put some kind of sense to this endeavor I have assumed. It may not be Homer's Odyssey, certainly I do not have hundreds of screaming Argonaut's dying at every corner, but I find it no less challenging than Jason found his travels.
Being left somewhat abruptly, I walked along the side of the road the first day. I was ever so exhausted from the previous days adventure, so I took the chance to just clear my mind and focus on placing one step in front of the next. That had been my purpose, until the rain started. It came with a violence, as if to make up for long threatening humidity that preceded it for the weeks prior. It was that pounding rain, along with my lack of any real provisions, and my crumbling self motivation, that finally led me to collapse in the mid level apartment of a large building, overlooking what must be Novomitrovsk.
That was a bit over a day ago. The lack of zombies has been very nice, and I have only had to shoot my pistol a couple times to chase off some dogs, as well as to warn off a traveler that took too much interest in my residence.
This evening, I am sitting by the small stove in the apartment. It is still fairly cold, with the windows being broken out. I took some pieces of carpet and tacked them over the windows as well as I could, to keep the wind from blowing the rain in and soaking the floor. Beyond the door, along the hallway, I have set up some small strings with cans and rocks, so anyone, or anything, coming in, will make a ruckus and give me some advantage.
Eponine is eating some food, having taken to staying near her carrier. I am leaning against the wall, holding my pistol, trying to balance the drive to live, against the futility of the struggle. Increasingly, I am understanding the decision that last town took, to take the easy way out. The zombies rule the towns and countryside. They are relentless and seemingly limitless in number. There are not enough bullets, or enough people left to shoot them, to eradicate them by force. Time is the only means to burning them from the Earth, and I am so weary of time. I simply do not have enough left in me, to go on, day after day, mile after mile, hiding and running. I am tired. I am cold, and miserable and ready to just close my eyes forever. Dodger and Banksy made it out. They are safe, probably eating something properly cooked, or sleeping in comfortable beds, untroubled by the constant threat of death.
The uneaten can of peaches still sits beside me. I have no desire to eat it. I should, I have not eaten properly in a few days, and I am weak and feel so tired. I just no longer care. I eject the magazine from the pistol and look at the small bullets in it. They are so simple. One strike of the hammer on the rear, and they find their purpose, flying through the air, until they fall, or impact. Either way, their purpose is served. Maybe life is like that. Some peoples lives find their mark, and they end successfully. Others, like me and Eponine, we miss the target entirely, and are just left, a failure, unnoticed, and discarded.
She has no idea what the world is. She is so skinny, and vulnerable. She will not make it alone, unable to defend herself. The monsters in the world are too many, too strong, too determined to erase her from her life all too soon. She was born into a violent world and never had a chance. It will be a kindness, a mercy, if I shoot her in the head. She will eat, then try to clean herself as best as she can, then she will lay down, curled up beside me, and I will shoot her in the head, then shoot myself. We will end this together. Eponine and I, alone, in this cold apartment, tonight.
I wonder how Banksy is. They said they had the last hospital in Sanctuary. They said it still had electricity, and its machines were still functioning. They said he would get the best care possible, and that they were very sure he would be just fine given a couple weeks to recover. It has been ten days, as near as I can tell, since I walked away from the huge gates. I really didn't expect to last half this long, on my own. I guess I just kind of assumed I would have died somehow, from the heat, or by zombie. It never even really occurred to me, that I might make it this long. That alone almost makes me feel proud, but it is not enough to merely survive. We all need a reason to keep trying. I know I said I am looking for this scientist, but I have no idea if he even exists, nor what I think I am going to do if I do find him. And what if this is all predicated upon a hoax, that there never was any scientist? What if this entire sojourn is nothing more than my minds delusion? I don't know that I even care anymore. I am just tired. I am too tired of this world to care. I just want it to end.
Eponine has finished eating, and she will groom herself only a few minutes. I brush the hair from my face, once again put the magazine back in the pistol and chamber a round. I have done this a dozen times, this will be the last. I am ready. I am going to finally make it all go away. The monsters have won, and I have not a single fuck left to give. I feel her curl up beside my leg, finally ready to sleep.
I feel the tears fall down my dirty cheeks. They gather along my chin, dripping onto my dirty shirt, wetting it as much as the rain did. I wonder if Banksy will remember me. Will he one day tell the story of the strange little French girl, that drove him to the last city on Earth? Will he tell his children of the days of his travels through the wastelands, and the girl that fell in love with him? Will he even remember how I looked into his eyes, kissed his lips, held him so tight on cold nights? Will he hold onto those memories, or will he forget them, as we forget all things that we let go of? Will Dodger and he make a life together? Perhaps she will take the place I was destined to never fill, in his life. She might be the lover, the friend, the companion, that I was never meant to be. I hope they find happiness together, my love, and my only friend. I hope sometimes, on a cold rainy night, they think about me. Maybe they will laugh at how I kept shooting people in the foot, or the time we stole the truck together, or the day we all met, raiding the soda machine. We had some good times, we did laugh, didn't we? It wasn't always painful. Sometimes it was almost good. I just wasn't good enough. In the end, I had to let go. In this world, sometimes we have to just let go.
Eponine has finally gotten comfortable and is resting. I watch her till her breathing slows, steadies. She too has nightmares. Tonight, they will end. I wipe my eyes and lower the barrel to just behind her innocent little head. I am not sure what signal I wait for, but I wait, holding the trigger, just a few last moments, little girl, and this will all be just a bad dream. The bad dream will be over, and we will maybe meet in whatever comes next.
As she sleeps, she rolls to her side, then I see her little face, looking up at me. So innocent, so trusting. I am all she has. She trusts in me, she depends upon me, to take care of her, to defend her, to love her. Without me, she would have died, trapped in that kitchen. Her little face is so pathetic, so sad, with its raggedy whiskers. Her ears, just too large for her head, her scrawny body too small, seemingly, to support her head. Her paws, so large on her tiny little legs. She is awkward and uncoordinated, utterly dependent upon me. In this world, she is the one last innocent thing. This little life, has killed nobody, has harmed nobody, and only wants to be loved and cared for. She offers herself, completely, all her love, her potential, everything that makes her what she is, she offers to me, in return, all she asks is that I take care of her. And I can not do this. I just can not hurt her. I can't. I just can't take away this one pure, innocent creature. This little ragamuffin kitten, laying beside me, is the only real purpose I have anymore. I lower the pistol to the floor, pushing it away. Eponine wakes, just a little, looking up at me, uncomprehending of what is going on, but gives me a little meow, lovingly, trusting me. I can't stop crying as I pick her up and hold her. "It's going to be OK baby... I'm here. I'm going to take care of you, and it's all going to be OK. Come morning, we will find you somewhere safe, and I will make sure you are OK. That is my promise." I say between sobs. She accepts this, I believe, and decides to lick my finger, then give it a little bite. Yes, shes going to be OK. I can't leave her, so it looks like I will have to find it within myself, to go on, at least until I can find a place for her.
They say that if you wait long enough, what you are looking for, finds you. I often used to wonder who "they" were, and just who exactly wrote down everything "they said." I suppose, if you say enough things, however, strange, eventually, some of them are bound to come true. Oddly enough, in a run down apartment, in Novomitrovsk, on a cold rainy evening, one of these sayings, came true.
I am laying awake, trying to figure out just where to go, when I hear the tin cans rattle. Assuming it could be an animal, or a zombie, I put Eponine in her carrier, and gather my pistol, prepared to flee if necessary. I open the door, just a crack, to peek out into the hallway. There are shadows moving on the lower mezzanine and they are shining hand torches. They are neither animal, nor zombie, but no less dangerous. "Whoever you are, I am armed, I will shoot you, so... go away." I yell down at them. I hear them step away, then some muffled laughter.
"You took a shot at one of our guys a day ago, you have bigger problems than you know." one yells back. I hear the sound of a rifle being worked, loading a bullet. I am quite sure they had their rifles ready before they came near, so that was for my benefit, and it doesn't go unnoticed.
"I told him the same I'm telling you, I am just passing through, and to keep away." I yell back at them.
"You said 'fuck off'." I hear one yell back. The others laugh a bit louder. I get the feeling they are not taking this so seriously.
"You said it could have been a group, that they seemed pretty well trained." The first one says.
"It was dark, and they surprised me." the other one says, rather defensively. More laughter, then some teasing insults about his manhood.
"You can put down whatever gun you have, we are the Gent's of Novo, and you are safe, so long as you are within the city limits of Novo." The first one says. The Gents. I've heard of them, they keep the city safe, from bandits and zombies.
"OK, you can come up." I say putting my pistol back in my pocket, but keeping it ready to shoot, just in case things go pear shaped. You can never be too careful, especially in the zombie apocalypse.
They come up, weapons lowered. Each has the same surprised look seeing me. I suppose girls are not commonly seen traveling alone. It is a harsh world these days, and it is unsafe for anyone to travel alone, much less a girl.
"I am sorry we put a fright into you. I must say, it is quite unusual to find a girl traveling alone." their leader says. He introduces himself as Mister Jinx. "That is Shovel, you met him already. This is Adam, and that is Matt. Welcome to Novo." he says as they take up positions around the room. I notice one keeps by the door, another positions himself near the window, always keeping watch.
"I am Ellie. Thank you. I would offer you something to eat, or drink, but, I have nothing to share, and can't afford the kindness." I say pushing my pack near to the carry bag. Eponine meows at the movement and noise. The Gents all look at the bag, once again surprised. "This is Eponine, shes... also alone." I say taking her out of the carry bag.
Mister Jinx looks at the scrawny little kitten, his face growing softer. I am not sure if it is sadness, happiness, or what, but it is an expression I would not expect to see from a man such as him. His hand shakes as he reaches out and gently brushes little Eponine's hair with his fingers. She meows, rubbing her face on his fingers. He smiles, pulling his hand back reluctantly.
"I am not wanting any trouble. I'm just passing through, I wont be long. I just need to rest, find a safe place for her, then I will be on my way." I say, slipping her back into her carrier. Mister Jinx continues to stare at the bag, well after Eponine is safely curled up in it.
"Lass, I will extend our protection to you, and you are free to travel the city as you please. I do have one request, and it is only a request." he says, I swear, I see his eyes water up a bit.
"I'm listening." I say watching him watch the bag. The others also look a bit startled by his change in demeanor. They are trained military, that is obvious in how they communicate without speaking. Even though I have never been in the military, I have been around soldiers quite a bit in the last few months, and I have seen how a look, a minute gesture, a glance, conveys information, what to ignore, what to look at, be aware. They have been speaking volumes to each other since they arrived. What they seem to be saying now, would be much like "what the hell is up with him?"
"I have adopted... a family, here in Novo. I have a daughter, about half your age, I recon. You mentioned finding a safe home for your kitten. I think my daughter, she would love to take her in. It would help them both." he says in a way fathers do when discussing their families. "She's been through... well, she has good days, and some hard days. I think Eponine would help her, as much as she can help care for Eponine."
"I would like to know that she is going to be cared for, if the girl doesn't want her. If I agree to this, you have to swear, on your life, that you will care for the kitten as if you were me." I say holding my hand out to him. He takes it, gently, though his hands are rough. We seal the deal with a hand shake, and then everyone relaxes a bit.
They help me to get the rest of my gear packed, and we walk down the stairs, out into the rain. Ten minutes later, we arrive at a truck, and he helps me inside. The Gents climb into the covered back, and Mister Jinx drives us to the capitol building. Inside, we go up a few stairs, finally arriving at a series of apartments. Inside the far room, he shows me his family, his adopted daughter, and we introduce her to Eponine.
They say we only remember the bad days, for those are the days we learn from. In this instance, "they" need to shut the fuck up, and go away. I remember the good days. The days riding with Banksy, and riding with Dodger, laughing at her stupid jokes, and now, the day I saw a 7 year old girl come back to life, holding a kitten, equally happy to be loved like no other, will stay with me forever. Eponine has found a home. Banksy and Dodger found a home. Maybe in this world, I do have a purpose. I find those who need one, a place to call home. I bring together the strays, the orphans, the throw away lives, and make them whole. Maybe that is my purpose. Maybe it IS my job to heal this broken world, one life at a time.
By the next morning, they have given me a nice hunting rifle. Shovel Guy, I swear, that is what everyone calls him, tells me it is a .308. He shows me what the boxes of ammunition look like, and slips a few in my pack when he thinks I am not looking. Mister Jinx puts a bag of fresh baked cookies in my bag as well, from his daughter, he says. Adam and Matt drive me to the city limits, and drop me off, wishing me well. They have a home here, called Novo, and it is where they belong. The road, however, calls to me, and out there, in the wastelands, is where I belong. I wave goodbye to the Gents, wish them well, then turn around and walk into the distance.