Chapter 5: Six Days after arriving in Little Garden
As I mentioned earlier, Robin was, in a way, starting to regret choosing to room with Baby. Oh sure, they had some things in common and they got along well enough. It's just that Baby had her way of doing things and Robin had hers. For instance, Baby, having been a DJ in the past, preferred to immerse herself in loud music when she was working on a task, like cleaning her guns or reloading her guns, or really anything involving her guns.
Robin, on the other hand, preferred absolute silence when she was working on a task. Like reading, which she was doing because there was fuck-all else to do around the outpost today.
She was also reading because reading is fun. It's so fun. Especially reading fanfiction. You know what's even more fun than reading fanfiction? Reviewing it! Try it! You can do it right now with the fanfiction you are currently reading! Just click the button and write something! Go ahead! Go- What? No, I was just- I wasn't- Okay fine. I'll get back to it...
There was fuck-all else to do around the outpost that day. Therefore, Robin had decided to consume a mystery novel, and I mean really consume it. Really get herself in there and feel the characters and their motivations and all that good stuff.
Screaming over techno music was not what she wanted to do. But it was what she was doing, anyway. As close as possible to Baby so her voice could be heard while she was bent over, dismantling her assault rifle to clean it. "CAN YOU JUST- TURN IT DOWN A LITTLE BIT?! JUST A LIIIITTLE BIT?! I'M TRYING TO READ!" As I said, Baby insisted on this being a French-only house.
"NO, NO! IT CAN'T BE DONE! MUSIC LIKE THIS MUST BE PLAYED AS LOUD AS POSSIBLE!" Baby was similarly screaming over her own music. Robin swore she could feel the house shake.
"THEN HEADPHONES! THERE HAS TO BE HEADPHONES AROUND HERE SOMEWHERE!"
Baby shook her head, pointing to the source of the music. "IT'S ALL ON VINYL! YOU THINK I WOULD PLAY ANYTHING ELSE?! IF THIS IS BOTHERING YOU, WHY DON'T YOU GO READ IN THE STORAGE HOUSE OR SOMETHING?!"
Robin rubbed her eyes with her thumb and forefinger, reminding herself that strangling her roommate would definitely look bad to the rest of the people in the outpost. So instead she exhaled sharply. "FINE! THAT'S WHERE I'LL BE!"
She stomped out of the room, hoping Baby could catch wind of her frustration and feel bad for disrupting her roommate's peace. She didn't.
Catch wind of the frustration, that is, hers is a crime of ignorance, not malice. Baby reserved her fury for those that deserved it.
Robin slammed the front door of the house shut and, standing there on the porch, could still barely hear the muffled pounding of the bass dropping. How Baby still had her hearing was lost on Robin.
She did have a point, though. The storage house would be empty and she'd be able to read in peace. She decided that on the off chance someone did have to come in for supplies, she could manage that level of interruption. She walked next door, book in hand, finger between the pages marking where she had left off.
The storage house was furnished and cleaned so it could serve as guest housing, but it was picked clean of its good furniture, and replaced with lesser furniture from everyone else's houses. So, for instance, the comfy recliner that once sat in the carpet divots had been replaced with a chair that was still comfy, but did not recline. Robin didn't mind this. She was a simple woman with simple tastes and a lever that turned a chair into an awkwardly shaped bed was not something she deemed necessary.
To avoid having to actually interact with anyone, Robin decided to take refuge in the bedroom upstairs. Perfectly isolated, had a relatively decent bed to sit on, and free of major distractions, it was an excellent spot to dive into the mysterious world of this 1940's noir detective.
It took approximately fifteen minutes of isolated quiet time for her to hear the sound of the garage door being opened. She paused in her reading, perking her head up and listening intently. At least she thought she heard the garage open. Maybe she was just hearing things. Maybe her paranoia had gotten the better of her. So she waited and listened for any follow up noise. Shuffling or cans clattering or anything to indicate that a person might be in the house. Surviving six years in a zombie apocalypse, you learned real quick to take note of any sound of an intruder in whatever shelter you found yourself in.
She didn't hear anything at first. She waited another few seconds to reassure herself that it was nothing. Hesitantly, she settled back down and opened her book up and that's when the sound of power tools kicked in. She withheld the urge to scream, biting down on the inside of her cheek to ensure all the yelling took place inside her head.
She tried to ignore it. It wasn't that loud, certainly not the level of Baby's music. Just the whirring of some machine or another, the sound of metal grinding against metal. It was all taking place inside the garage, so it was muffled by way of having to travel all the way up to the bedroom. She begrudgingly climbed off of the bed and walked to the door, shutting it to provide some additional buffers to the noise. She sighed sharply when she realized she could still hear it. It almost would've been better if it were one consistent noise going off. Instead it came in and out at a random pattern. There would be whirring and grinding, then silence. Then it would come back in. Then silence. Then sharp pounding noises. Then silence.
Then came the music. Not nearly as loud as Baby's but somehow more obnoxious all the same. Because it was a genre she rarely listened to and even made an attempt to avoid in certain situations, it took her a second to realize what it was. The hard drums, the irritating electric guitar, the screaming. It was Jock Rock. The bloated, bombastic music that used to frequent sports arenas and the pile of CD's in your dad's car. It was garbage music selected because it was loud enough to get people excited but no one needed to pay attention to it.
There was only one person in Little Garden who would not only play jock rock, but also play it in a place where people could see him.
"Franky…" Robin muttered through gritted teeth. Just what in the hell was he doing anyway? She flung open the door and skulked down the stairs, feeling the music and tool noises get louder and louder with each step.
When she reached the garage, she was greeted with a… thing. It may have once been a jeep, but she had never seen a jeep covered in so much seemingly superfluous attachments. It was like a car-sized Battlebot. It had makeshift armor plating, scrapped in a style not unlike the walls that surrounded them. It had spikes on the front of it. Actual metal spikes sticking out a foot or so from the hood of the car. It had reflective The grill had been replaced with what looked like makeshift cowcatcher from a train. And the whole thing was painted in bright colors, like someone in Mad Max had been caught up in a patriotic fervor.
Robin regarded the thing with disdain, partially because she was already annoyed, and partially because it just seemed like a waste of time and resources to turn a car into a battletank. She found the CD player on a toolbench nearby and turned it off to get Franky's attention.
His head perked up from somewhere behind the Jeep and his confused look turned into a sheepish smile. "Oh, hey, Robin! Didn't know you were there!"
"What a surprise," she said flatly. "What is this thing…?"
Franky leapt to his feet and walked around the jeep, beaming with pride. "This is the greatest thing I've ever created! I call it the Frankystein!"
"Because it's an abomination to both science and God?"
"Yeah! Also because it's made mostly outta parts from old dead cars that I scavenged!" His dumb grin filled in the silence for a moment, until he continued. "Also it's because my name is Franky."
"Clever. Do you have to work on the… Frankystein right now? I was trying to read and the noise is distracting." She wasn't trying to sound like a bitch, but she was there first, after all.
Franky, unfortunately, just shook his head. "No can do, Robarino," making her cringe at the nickname, "Either I work on this thing during the day, or I keep everyone up workin' on it at night. Besides! Luffy wants to see the thing in action, so I'm trying to put the finishing touches on it by tomorrow!"
Robin rubbed at her eyes, grumbling under her breath. "Of course."
"And, y'know, all the car parts are here, so… This is the garage I gotta work in."
"Of course."
"But hey!" Franky said, not wanting to disappoint anyone ever. "If you're lookin' for a place to read, why don't you just climb the wall? Nice day for it. Bring one of the folding lawn chairs up there. It's just Perona and Bonney on guard duty today, they won't bother you!"
The combination of Perona and Bonney talking together momentarily worried Robin, but Franky was right in his assumption that they would leave her alone. As long as they kept their distance, she could relax. "That's… That actually sounds like a good idea. Thank you, Franky."
"O'course! Here, you can grab one of these!" he ambled his way over to the garage wall, where a hook containing one of those folded up lawn chairs in the bag was waiting. He pulled it off and tossed it to her, which she wasn't expecting. Trying to hold onto her book, she made a fumbling attempt to catch it and somehow managed to succeed.
She walked down the sidewalk, crossing the street to put herself at maximum distance away from both her house and the storage house. She shouldered the bag containing her chair and with only a little bit of struggling, managed to climb the ladder up to the balcony. She gave the area a quick glance to see any immediate threats to her peace. Satisfied to see Bonney and Perona were nowhere near her, she got to work opening the lawn chair and settling in.
It wasn't a perfect setup, but it would do. Franky was right, it was a nice day. The sun was out, it wasn't too hot, wasn't too cold. There was the low rumble of ambient noises, but nothing she couldn't ignore. She settled into the chair and opened her book once again. Her mind, able to recognize patterns, kept on alert for something to interrupt her.
She finally started to lower her guard after she made some significant progress through the book. It wasn't until she had gotten to the part where the scumbag detective had stumbled into a warehouse and ran into a bunch of thugs trying to dump another body in the river. A grin spread across her lips as she prepared for the inevitable fight scene. Her eyes widened and she brought her knees up to her chest, reading an exchange of hard-knuckled blows so eloquently described in such extravagant detail that there's no way in hell that I could transcribe a passage of the book and fool you all into thinking it was written by a completely different author. Use your imagination!
Right when the detective was grabbed by the collar and thrown into a stack of pallets, Robin heard a wet, sickening snarl and for a second thought she had imagined it coming from one of the goons pounding on her protagonist. There was a muffled thump, and then she realized it was coming from the real world and not the realm of fiction. Another thump, some more snarling and gurgling, and Robin forced herself out of the chair and peered over the wall. She tisked at the sight of five zombies ineffectively pounding and scratching at the thick walls, shoving into each other blindly and wearing down their rotting fingers to the bone.
"Oh you little bastards…" Robin groaned, causing one to tilt its head upward, toward the noise. Its lower jaw had either rotted off or been torn off, meaning it couldn't even do the one thing zombies were known to do anymore. Robin regarded it as an absolutely useless creature. "Shoo! Shoo! Get away, all of you!" She whisper-shouted. When they didn't heed her command, because of course they wouldn't, she stood up straight and looked around the balcony for any weapon or heavy object she could use on them. She found nothing, and all she was currently armed with was a knife and a book. Neither of which she was willing to drop on them.
Grumbling and muttering the foulest of profanities, she had no choice but to pick up the chair and carry it to a new location. The zombies wouldn't follow her, as long as she stayed quiet, her immunity would keep her masked from them. She eventually settled in what was technically Coby and Vivi's backyard, but still up on the balcony. It's not like it was trespassing or anything. She collapsed back into the chair, brought her feet up onto the edge of the seat and yanked the book open. There was something spiteful about it now. It wasn't just about reading a book, it was about beating a universe that refused to let her read a book.
Her rage finally subsided the more she flipped through the pages. The world of the story became real to her again and she finally felt like she could make some progress. The pieces were starting to come together and Robin found herself nodding along as she read more. She had a feeling she knew where the story was going to lead and if the author could pull it off, she'd be impressed.
Let's see if you can guess what's going to happen next! Everyone write down your responses and email them to me and if you guess right, you'll win a prize!*
The doorwall slid open and out stepped Coby and Vivi, talking quietly between themselves. Robin didn't really notice them until Vivi had to call out, "What the-!? Robin! Hey, what are you doing in our backyard?"
It's not her fault, it's not her fault, she doesn't know, Robin had to keep telling herself. She bit the inside of her mouth until she tasted blood, clenching the book in her hands so hard her knuckles started turning white.
She managed to keep her cool as she climbed down the nearest ladder to meet them in their backyard. Her eyes were screwed shut and she took a deep breath. "I'm just… Trying… To read. I've been trying… All day…" She mentally apologized to the married couple for what was about to happen, but she started it and there's no going back.
"I can't read in my own home because my roommate still thinks she lives in a French nightclub! I can't read in the storage house because Franky just has to work on his stupid car today! I can't even read outside because the WALKING FUCKING DEAD won't let me have a moment's peace!"
Coby and Vivi said nothing, terrified of what would happen if they were to interject at any time.
"It's not much to ask, alright?! Right?! Just a chance to read?! There are now a finite number of books in the world! The great modern writers we had are all dead now! And even if there are some that are still alive, it's not like we're all racing to reestablish publishing companies! Books are even more sacred now than they ever were!" She looked at them, waiting for them to back her up, but they remained silent and afraid. So she exhaled sharply, letting all the frustration out like a rapidly deflating balloon. "All I wanted today was to just sit down and read a book. Just a quiet day to read a book."
With her shoulders slumped downward, it was clear Robin had run out of steam and it was probably safe to talk. The young couple exchanged glances, silently confirming with one another that it was okay to speak.
"Um… That… That sucks…" Coby muttered.
"You know, if you're looking for someplace quiet… You could try our house?" Vivi managed to squeak out.
Robin's head lifted up slightly. "Really?"
They both nodded hesitantly. "Yeah. Vivi and I are taking over for Bonney and Perona, so the house'll be empty for a few hours," Coby said.
Robin stared at them, wide-eyed in amazement. "Can you promise? Can you promise that no one will come barging in?"
"Yes? You can even lock the door if it makes you feel better," Vivi said.
They weren't expecting Robin to wrap her arms around both of them, and they certainly weren't expecting her to drop all of her weight onto them and force them to support her. "You two are beautiful and perfect and I love you both."
They both gave Robin an awkward pat on the back and waited for her to pull away from the hug. "I won't make a mess, I promise. You two are amazing," she said as she shuffled towards the house.
"T-... Take care of yourself!" Vivi called out, her voice wavering a little. Robin waved with her back to them as she slid open the doorwall and closed it behind her. She hit the lock and now it was Coby and Vivi's turn to deflate.
"Yeesh, I've never seen her explode like that," Coby said.
"Usually she just bottles it up where no one will ever find it," Vivi responded.
The first thing Robin did was go and lock every door. The front door, the garage door, she even secured all the windows. No one was getting in this fucking house. Once she felt secure, once total peace had been achieved, that's when she sat down on the couch and opened the book. But first she waited. She must have waited in the silence for five minutes before allowing herself to read a single page. Then her head immediately lifted up again, scanning the area.
Her paranoia got the better of her and she stood up to make one final check of the house. She even looked out the windows, making sure no one was coming up the sidewalk. Satisfied, she took her seat again and read through another page.
It became a sort of stop and go process for a while. She was jumping at shadows in the middle of the day. As such, it took her even longer to actually make progress in the story. But eventually, there wasn't much of the book left and her heart stopped racing over paranoia and started racing as she inched ever closer to the final conclusion. The pieces were all falling into place, the clues were starting to line up and Robin's hands were actually shaking as the detective lined everything up. It was literally a page away, the final reveal, and she knew what was coming.
The page turned, she sucked in a deep breath…
And then everything collapsed.
She read the paragraph again, making sure that it wasn't a mistake. There was no way. "Th-... The pilot? The pilot's behind it all?! No, that can't be… No that-" she stammered. "No… No, no, no!"
She continued reading, if for no other reason than in the hopes there would be some kind of surprise bonus twist at the last page. "It can't be… No, that's such a cop-out… Not after all that setup, you can't… roll it back…" she muttered to herself, reaching the epilogue and feeling her heart drop out of her chest. She soldiered through the last final pages and sank down into the couch, letting the book fall from her hands and groaning as she covered her eyes with her forearm.
"You blew it… Aahh, all that build-up and you completely botch the ending."
Outside, the sun was setting. She looked out the window with weary eyes, watching the sky grow darker. An entire day wasted. She pondered for a moment, considered what kind of lesson could be offered, but came up empty-handed.
*No you won't, that's a lie. I betrayed everyone's trust. I fooled you all.