When Charon sees Eva again, he freezes. He's lying in the tent Lo assigned to him when she finds him, curled on his side and waiting. There's dried blood under his nails that doesn't belong to him and scratches on his skin from a dead man. It's been a long day.
He's been laying here for hours, letting the day drain out of him, waiting for sleep that has become more and more elusive. It's been an effort to push her from his mind but he's been succeeding. Nights have been the hardest but for the most part she was gone. He had just managed to push her from his mind and now she's here, creeping closer on silent feet.
Eva is paler then he's ever seen her, veins so dark they could be cracks across her skin. Her face is still bloodied, turned red black with age. He can't seem to move.
She crouches beside him, presses an icy hand against his cheek. Her voice cracks when she tries to say his name.
"Charon? What are you doing here?" She doesn't sound right, deeper and rougher then he remembers. It's a struggle to rise, the worst of his wounds have healed but his sides are bruised, back torn to shreds from desperate fingers. He doesn't know who he was, why Lo hated him, but he knows what his throat feels like under his hands, how he screams. The blood coating his fingers itches.
"Eva?" He shouldn't touch her with these hands but he does, needs to. Black flakes fall away from her skin when he returns her gesture, cups her face softly, hoping she won't vanish under his hand.
She nuzzles into his palm, presses a kiss to his wrist with chapped lips. The tears sliding down her face are tinted red.
"Do you miss me?"
He chokes, nods and reaches for her. Eva is small in his arms, feels thinner, breakable. It doesn't stop him from squeezing her tighter. For a moment, she just lets him hold her, pressing her cheek against his chest. Her hair smells like iron and dust.
"Where were you?" He whispers the question into her neck, lips gliding over cold skin.
Eva's hands find their way to his shirt, clenching the fabric in tight fists. She shakes her head.
"I'm dead, remember? I couldn't find you."
Charon nods, moves his hand to stroke her hair but it comes away in clumps. The strands are slick, coated in brownish rot that sticks to his fingers and burns his skin. He jerks away, instantly hating himself when he sees her face. She looks hurt, kneeling on the dirt floor, hands still raised to hold onto him. The tears running down her face are dark red now, dripping from her chin to her knees in a slow rhythmic pattern.
She tries to reach for him but stops when he recoils. The tips of her fingers are just bone, bleached white beneath the decaying flesh. She laughs a little, almost disappointed.
"I've been falling apart without you." Her face starts to distort, the left half melting and she's forced to pull her reaching hand back completely to catch the eye spilling out of her socket. Her tears have changed from red to putrid brown.
"Charon." She hiccups his name, the word catching on the tail end of a weak sob.
"I told you I'd die alone."
…
The dreams have been repeating themselves lately. Sometimes it takes her longer to start rotting, she'll fall apart beneath him after he's pulled her into his bed. He'll spend the rest of the night desperately trying to put her back together, grabbing bones and meat until she's unrecognizable, trying to piece together something with no form. She spills from his fingers, nothing but liquid gore.
Other nights it begins with a kiss. At first it feels like a perfect dream, her arms wrapped around him, warm and safe. Then Eva's lips will start to give away beneath the pressure, turning to fetid meat until his teeth crack against hers.
Those nights he wakes up sick, tasting death and wondering why the flavor refuses to fade.
During the day, he can push it all away but it seems his subconscious won't let her go. Guilt seems to be the defining trait of each dream, losing her, rejecting her, hurting her. Each night he destroys Eva and each morning he struggles to ignore the shame twisting in his gut.
Lo picks up on those days, sniffs out his vulnerability like a starving wild dog. Today, she notices his distress immediately, catches the hitch in his shoulders, the strain in his jaw and nearly purrs.
"Good Morning Charon. Sleeping well?" A week has passed since she taunted him with his contract but the visceral thrill she seems to find in owning him has yet to fade. She throws an arm over his shoulder, head level to his and winks.
"We've got an exciting day ahead of us!" She gives him a little squeeze, smiling like they're sharing an inside joke. "Looks like you'll get a chance to earn your keep."
Charon blinks at her, lips turned down slightly in the perpetual frown that he's adapted over the years. He's stopped responding to most of her taunts. At first Lo used simple tactics to try to goad him into a reaction, threats of what she'll make him do, reminders of how much control she has over him, but eventually she realized they weren't working.
Mentioning Eva managed to get enough of a reaction for a while. Try as he might, Charon couldn't repress the slight flash of pain each time Lo would bring her up. She would describe her casually, picking at little details like how many scorch marks lined her arms, the dark bruises forming post mortem as her blood settled into the half of her body pressed against the cement. It fueled his dreams of her, taking away the fresh death and replacing it with the symptoms of older corpses, with bloat and bugs.
Eventually he learned to steel himself against the images. Even as Lo picked away at him, describing Eva's distended stomach as her body began to rot, the small holes in her skin where bugs had found a fresh meal, he didn't respond. If it was bringing Lo pleasure, he would do his best to feel nothing.
Her words might creep into his nights, distort the memory of Eva into something horrible, but Lo would never know it.
They pass by Jess as they walk towards the center of camp. Waking has become a routine. One the second day Lo ordered him to join her in the morning so now he's glued to her side, trailing after her like a loyal dog. He despises it and the rest of Lo's group seem disconcerted with his presence, torn between loyalty to Lo and jealousy for her new favorite toy. Luckily, they are uncertain about Charon so they mostly keep their distance but he's starting to get a gage on each one.
Jess is Lo's first hand, the only one of the seven that doesn't seem to dip into their supply of drugs recreationally. Unless they're fighting, she avoids anything stronger then liquor. Samson is the main bulk of their defense. He has stimpaks and med-x strapped to his person at all times. Three days ago, Charon watched him fight with a knife plunged hilt deep in his side, the med-x dulling the pain enough that he didn't seem to notice it until his opponent was dead.
Med-X is the main drug of choice amongst the group. Lo enforces the habit. She's gleeful when they fight, watching her people continue on when any normal human would have dropped from the pain.
Psycho is a close second.
Kay, Dee, and Voge fight best together. They share a tent, retiring early most nights if Lo won't acknowledge them. Her attention seems to be the ultimate prize in the caravan, each member flocking around her at night. Sometimes she picks a favorite to dote on, other times she entertains the whole group. Backlit with firelight, she basks in the attention, playing up the showmanship she displayed that first day with whatever she talks about, the others hanging on her every word.
The way they watch her, Charon at first suspected they were a sort of harem. The amount of devotion they display made it obvious they'd do anything for her, but each night she retires to her tent alone. Others in the group have various relationships but she seems to stay above it all.
With the way Lo sometimes watches him, he wishes she didn't.
He follows her to the center of camp, grabbing the rest of the roasted mirelurk from last night at her command. As much as she enjoys watching him suffer, he eats noticeably better than most of the group. It's clear that she thinks of him as no more than a possession, but judging by her actions, it's also clear that he is one of the most prized.
The meat is dry and chewy and the taste of rot still clings to his tongue but he chokes it down. Lo revels in giving orders and this was just another chance. She watches his every bite, eyes lit with hunger at each extra swallow he needs to push it down.
She tosses him a can of water when he's finished, orders him to drink even though it isn't necessary.
The metallic taste of it washes away every other flavor but it does nothing to erase the lump of disgust in his throat when he sees Lo's gaze follow a stray droplet sliding down his neck.
There's nothing Charon can do to stop it however so, when he finishes, he crushes the can in his fist and drops it to the ground to grind it beneath his heal, wishing it was her throat instead of old aluminum under his foot. Lo chuckles softly, clearly aware of where his misplaced aggression is directed.
Charon scowls. He's done it again. The cold dead hatred he used to feel for his employers has yet to return. Those few months with Eva unlocked too much and now the anger he feels is alive again, burning too hot not to scorch him. Each day he works to harden himself and each day he fails, revealing with some small action how much he still despises her. It's a battle he seems to be losing and a fight Lo loves to watch.
David and Lusk settle down on either side of Lo, each popping open a can of cram as they watch her. They do everything together and their motions are nearly in synch as they eat. Even in battle, their attacks mirror each other's perfectly.
Lo beams at the two, "Do you remember our sweet benefactors in our favorite little settlement across the river?"
They nod though he doubts it's a true response. Lo is vague at the best of times, preferring theatrics over clarity.
"We've done so much for them over the years. We've supplied them, we've supported them." She presses a hand to her breast, an expression of false distress on her face.
"Most of all, we've protected them."
The others have started to gather at her words, watching with undivided attention.
"And what have they done in return? Well," her expression turns devious, her ever present smile twisting the corners of her lips up into something wicked. "They stopped sending us payments."
Several members of the caravan boo, entirely caught up in the tale Lo is weaving.
"Now why would they stop, you might be asking, after all the kind things we've done for them?" Her deep voice grows slick, "It's because they don't appreciate us anymore, they don't think they need us."
Dee and Voge hiss but it's clear they're not upset. There's a tangible feeling of excitement building in the air as Lo talks, the promise of something thrilling stirring through the small crowd like a solid, living thing.
"I think they forgot just how harsh this cruel world can be." Lo shrugs, clapping a hand down on Charon's shoulder for no reason other than to emphasize her next words.
"Let's remind them."