I was up before Max, but I liked feeling her against me, the slow rise and fall of her breath. I grabbed my pack off the ground and lit one up. The sun was the only thing that got me up. The forest was silent. I knew animals fled before a storm fully hit, but I wasn't sure when they would come back. There was a part of me that ignored how sad I really was knowing that my family was dead, but I hoped that they were all together again, even Frank and Rachel could see each other again. I never thought much about religion, and even now I don't know what to think of it, but whatever gave Max her power gave me the will to compartmentalize all that death. If it weren't for Max telling me about all the shit that happened in different realities, then I don't think I'd be able to feel some sort of peace. I knew there were timelines where we were together, where my folks were together, where Rachel was alive. It was just this reality that was hard, but there were infinite Chloes that were happy, infinite Maxes that were happy. I just couldn't see them like she could. I didn't want to. I wanted her, and what really scared me was my own future now. Max could see into the past, but neither of us could look forward. I didn't have a lot of skills except for drawing, not a lot of knowledge except for mechanics. Maybe I could go to trade school or art school or anything to make a living, a good one. I didn't want to struggle like my mom did at the diner, and I knew if it weren't for my dad the house would have never been paid off. As much as I didn't want to admit it, David helped a shit ton with money. It was too late for me to appreciate him, but I did get to let him know I loved him after he saved Max and beat the shit out of Jefferson. I didn't want to admit it then, but I knew he made my mom happy. I knew I wanted to be everything for Max, and I knew I wanted to show myself I was worth something more than a burnout.
By the time I finished my cigarette Max started mumbling about something, twitching, shouting in her sleep. "Let go of me! Let me fucking go!" I was startled, and she swung her arms backward and jammed her elbow right on my upper lip, "Fuck! Max it's Chloe!" I tasted the iron in my mouth from my now busted lip. Tears were streaming down her face, and she threw the blanket off and wrapped her arms around my neck. "I was in the dark room again. Mr. Jefferson said that if I didn't let him do what he wanted that you and everyone in the town would die. His fucking eyes were the storm Chloe. His fucking eyes were," she quickly became incomprehensible as she began to sob.
"Max, it's me. I'm here. He's gone." She was slick with sweat as I ran my hands over her shoulders and back. Her tears and snot stuck to my breasts as I cradled her, rocking slowly back and forth. I wish I could say this was the first time I'd seen her like this, but there were times that she'd flicker back into our reality, and, well, she'd tell me what she'd seen, but I can't imagine what it'd be like to actually be there. I hate remembering my past, I mean, I cherish the memories I have with dad, but I can't imagine having and losing him all over again. I've gotten so used to Max being strong, like, movie action star strong. It hurt so bad to know she was like this because of me. I imagine Rachel would've felt this way if she saw me after we found her body in the junkyard. Corpses used to be metal as fuck to me. Now, not so much.
Max sucked in air through her congested sinuses and coughed with a wheezing phlegm. "Chloe. I killed everyone, and you still gave me Joyce's ring. Why don't you hate me? I should've been the one to die. Why didn't I have the choice to be the one to die? My head hurts Chloe my," she quickly swung the door open and heaved halfway out the truck with a sickening downpour of vomit.
"I don't hate you because I can't. I'm your Captain, and I'll go down with the ship. I'll be right back." I went around to the bed of the truck where our clothes sat in the late morning sun. Our outfits were still moist, but they were as dry as I could hope for. Max's bile was in a small puddle when I went back around to help her into her jeans. She slipped into my oversized bomber jacket without her top or bra, "this'll be more helpful. You can rinse your mouth out with some of the water. It's kinda all we have at the moment."
She groaned, "I've never drank before."
"Yeah, I know. Dude, you have your first hangover. Death and drinks. You're now officially punk rock."
She emitted something close to a chuckle, "Does it feel like this every time?"
"Ideally no. I wasn't going to stop you last night. It didn't feel like the right move." I gave her the best smile I could while I pulled my cold partly dried clothes. "Damn, my nips just really poke through this, at least my piercings look cool."
Max gave an actual laugh, "You're hella stupid. I don't know why I love you."
"Didn't I tell you? My power is mind control." I rummaged through one of our bags and pulled out a can of Bud, "You're not going to believe me, but drink this. It's the hair of the dog baby!" I took my keys and punctured a hole and the bottom, cracked the top open, and shotgunned the can. It was hard to stay upbeat, but she needed me to be. I knew she did. I was no professional, but I know what I would've wanted in her shoes: laughter, dumb stupid laughter, laughing like kids again boarding ships and fighting other pirates, swinging sticks around like cutlasses.
"Jesus! I don't know. I'll, I'll do it if we toss those pills. I didn't say anything yesterday, but…I don't need to lose you for something stupid like that." She was right. I think I used to hang out around Frank too much when I was younger, and I didn't know what to do when we were getting supplies the day before. There's no way I could be a drug dealer, and there was no way I'd let us get addicted to that shit. I just rummaged through hoping to find something that Frank would have sold if he had been alive. I didn't think about how he was dead now. He was the only dealer I could trust even if he was an asshole when I had owed him money. Max saved my ass when we stole that dirty money from Blackwell's principal. God damnit she was always saving me. Even if Frank was still alive it would've been just a reflex to sell to him. I was way too young to have had any business kicking it with a drug dealer over the years. Frank was a nice guy before Rachel went missing, and he was crazy fucking nice to Rachel. I got so pissed when Max and I found their photos in his RV. Seeing Rachel posing like a model for Frank broke me because I had spent the better part of a year canvassing the town with missing persons fliers when Rachel went missing. The night after Max and I had found the photos, when the hurt went to the back of my mind, all I could think of was Max. Her freckled arms and face. The way they spotted her skin in the sunlight among the slight peach fuzz on her arms.
"You're right. I just needed to do something yesterday. I wanted to scrounge up as much as possible. I'll toss em in the junkyard, but first," I jammed my key into another beer and held it up for Max. She got most of it down before coughing some of it up with some foam. Most of the time it was hilarious when someone struggled to shotgun, but she was so cute. Seeing her smile at something so typically teenage helped me relax. I knew I could do it. I could make her feel good, well, I knew I could make her feel good. I knew then I could make her feel good outside of the bedroom. I couldn't help but crack a laugh at it all.
"Fuck Chloe. I guess this does make me pretty punk rock." She looked down at her hand and ran her finger over the gold band. "Are you sure about this?"
I threw the bottles towards some junk and shouted, "Dude I totally am. I think you do too based on how hard you tried to make things right between us. You fuckin rock on your own, and you put up with me. Even if you are a hipster who says 'hella'. I'll excuse it though because you're hot."
She laughed, but by the time I got back to the truck she was sobbing again. "I really loved Joyce and David. Warren and Victoria and Dana. They didn't deserve to get killed. I'm so glad you're alive, but why do I get to be when everyone else didn't."
"You get to because some halo sporting Sky Daddy said you do. You're Super Max, and I can guarantee you'll do a lot of people good. You're eighteen, and you have so much ahead of you. My folks are dead, but your's aren't. We can't break their hearts too, kay?" I looked over to the bottle of Seagrams and realized we had polished it off last night. Again, I rummaged through what we grabbed and tossed anything that could get us pulled over. We were left with a bag of cash after we had some cold canned soup for breakfast. "It'll take us the better part of a day to get to your parents' place. I'm sure FEMA is already getting their shit together to look for survivors. We can't assume everyone is dead, but we can't do anything about it. Leave it to the professionals babe. We need to worry about each other even if it feels like shit." Our phones were ruined, but the radio worked and my truck started. "When I get gas, go and call your folks. Let them know we're on our way. I love you madly Mad Max. I got your back. You've had enough of mine." Max kissed my hand and leaned her head against the window, "I do feel a bit better after that drink. It's gonna be a long time before I have another one." I laughed and let the news tell us what roads were clear enough to drive on before switching on a mixtape she gave me when we were kids. It was a lot of sad slow folk. She was such a goddamn hipster.
It took a few hours before I felt comfortable pulling off to a gas station to fuel up and buy some hot food and snacks, a carton of cigarettes, and some huge bottles of Gatorade for Max. I filled up the tank as well as a gas can I bought inside. It sucked. It fucking sucked smelling the fuel. The diner my mom worked at smelled like it when I dug through the rubble. I had seen Rachel rotting not long before, and then I had to see what was left of David, mom, and Frank. Warren was crushed under the rusted Two Whales Diner sign, and it smelled so much like gas. I went to a lot of punk shows in the years where Max was gone, and there was one outside during the winter with fires going to keep us warm as we moshed. That was the first time I smelled a person burning, some drunk dude who got shoved and fell over himself into a fire. I never thought it would be a scent I'd ever be around again. It was so much worse than smelling and hearing that dude. It was so much worse to smell the gas and wet burned wood, to smell it stale on the bodies of people I loved.
The pump clicked, and I didn't know it. I was staring at my shoes watching tears drip onto the toes. It must have been a few minutes of silence as I saw my tears disappear on the wet leather. They didn't even form little islands of sorrow. They just hit and were gone. The storm had just hit and was gone. It just hit and they were all gone.
It was Max's turn to comfort me, I guess I had gotten on the ground with my head on my knees. I didn't realize it until she squatted down next to me. "It's going to be okay. That's what you said, and that's what I'm saying now. I'm going to finish school. You're going to find your way-I'm sure my parents can help you find something. We're going to get married. We'll figure it out together. It's something we'll do together."
I banged my head back against the truck. It was so hard to think that far in advance. At least I knew she took the rings seriously. There was a huge part of me that was afraid she was happy about it because it was in such stark contrast from what we'd been through during and after the storm. She was so good at thinking about the future. That was something she had always been good at. It's like she could always blink through time. I even thought her disappearing on me might have been a good thing. Sure, I got myself into a shit ton of trouble, but I got to learn how to love someone else, and I had to grieve for people I loved. Twice. But it made me stronger, stronger for when she came back. I just had a hard time being strong now. "Max, I couldn't save anyone. I couldn't save you from Jefferson. I couldn't even keep myself fucking alive if it weren't for you." David's ring on my finger was thicker than my mom's. I liked its weight. It was beautiful and badass. Max's pale eyes met mine, and she brushed my blue bangs off of my forehead. "I've seen so many versions of you be kind to me despite abandoning you after William died. You're not just strong because you're a masc punk. There's something in you that throws you in danger's way, and, and I'll always catch you." She kissed me hard on the lips. It was so damn comforting. "You know, the taste of alcohol and puke on your breath is pretty badass Ms. Maxine."
My legs hurt getting back up and I cracked what I could of a smile, "Yeah, and if I didn't drive you'd be stuck here. I really have to teach you how to drive stick." I had always been weirdly good with mechanics. I could have been an engineer I think if I didn't hate school so much. I worked best with my hands. I could build, design, it was like an art to me. Max had photography. I had steel and oil.
We drove in relative silence listening to her mix. It was cheesy as fuck, but when First Day of My Life came on we both started crying. We cried enough we had to pull over and take a moment to be close on the bench seat. It was my turn to feel physically small, so I put my head on her lap so I could look up at her. Rachel had been beautiful, but she was, like, model beautiful, like, influencer beautiful. She was Hollywood starlet beautiful. Max was unique, but I didn't know if she believed me when I would tell her at night in each other's arms. She always fiddled with her hair and hid behind her camera. Max was so good at seeing the beauty in everything around her. It was my job to show her there was beauty on the other side of the lens. There was that peach fuzz against the light, barely noticeable if you weren't looking closely, if you weren't looking for it. I always had looked for every detail on her body, every curve and dimple and every little thing she thought was an imperfection. I loved it all. There were things on my body that made Max feel sad and guilty though. Some scars on my hip and upper legs, a cigarette burn scar, and evidence of bad choices I had made on accident and purpose. "Mad Max, I think the thing I'm looking forward to most is this. This being the norm. When I had nightmares after dad died, a therapist told me that when I woke up I had to create a happy ending to the dream and say it out loud. I don't need to create one for the nightmare we're living when I can see and touch it."
She looked down at me and stroked my cheek with a warm smile, "Wow. Captain Chloe being sweet and psychoanalytical. I never thought I'd see the day," she bursted out laughing when she saw me blush intensely.
I got up and gave her a playful push. "I guess we're both dorks."
She laughed again, "Yeah. I guess we are."
"I guess I don't have to keep up a hard appearance," I laughed, but I didn't think about what that meant when I had said it. I really didn't have to be anything for anyone but Max and myself now. It was bittersweet to be able to be the person I'd wanted to be at the expense of everyone in Arcadia Bay. I saw Max's smile fade. I guess she'd realized what I said too. I pulled her close and pressed my forehead against hers, "We need to have moments of joy. The people we love in Arcadia, they would've wanted you to smile and laugh, even if it's just for a few minutes. I know that's how I feel." I gave her a soft kiss before sliding over and starting the truck again. When I pulled back on the road I went to turn the music back on, but Max put her hand on mine to stop me. "Thank you Chloe. I don't know if I'll ever really be able to believe that, but I trust you. Can we listen to some of your music? Mine is making my heart hurt, but I don't want it to right now. Not right now." She trailed off, but when I got into my top gear I held her hand. We just sat in silence for a while listening to the engine and the squeak of the cracked leather underneath us.