IV: Skirmish
Joshua's heavy eyelids slowly lifted as he mumbled incoherently and pushed himself off the dirtied mattress. He drew a sleeve to wipe the drool off his cheek and raised his head. Rusty had been standing beside his mattress.
"Been waiting long?" Joshua asked groggily. He managed to sit up and began to rub his eyes. Rusty looked down at him with his arms crossed. His hatchet rested beside him.
Rusty scoffed. "Hardly. Just got here," he said as he looked away with an entertained look on his face. Joshua's composure generally functioned as his finest weapon. Watching drool trickle down his face was uncharacteristic of him, entertaining to watch.
Joshua seemed to catch on. He looked away as he spoke. "Well good," he started. He raised himself off his mattress and slipped on his newly acquired boots. The strap that tightened over the leather caught Rusty's eye.
"New boots?"
"Managed to find a pair. Not bad, huh?"
Rusty shrugged before he went into his sunken pocket to fetch the leather purse. He picked it out and tossed it to Joshua, who got a last minute look of it and scrambled as it bounced off his chest and into his cupped hands.
"You hang onto it," Rusty said. He had no interest in hanging onto goods that would only slow him down.
Joshua scoffed as he rubbed his eyes. "You're making a serious mistake," he joked. Joshua picked himself up and shuffled towards an exposed pipe jutting from the right of the entrance. A light brown poncho hung from it amongst a pile of rubble. He slipped the light brown fabric over his head and black t-shirt. The hooded poncho had been smeared with dirt and blood, but Joshua made sure to smudge the blood over; hostility provided little room for conversation.
Joshua's poncho laid loosely over his shoulders and ended by his knees, a sliver separating the shawl down the middle. His thin stature was only more exacerbated when standing beside Rusty's burly figure, the shawl over his body doing little more to flatter his gaunt composition. He preferred the loose wear, but more importantly, he enjoyed having his arms concealed. The ability to surprise complemented his agility.
His shaggy red hair rested messily in his face, falling just over his left eye. His large, blood red eyes provided a youthful look, although his sunken cheeks and hollow figure spoke more for his history than his face ever could. He flipped his hair as he turned over to Rusty, who was leaning against the wall before the entrance.
"You'll run?" Rusty asked. It was a challenge more than an enquiry. He looked down at Joshua as he fixed the front of his poncho.
Joshua raised his eyes as he stared at Rusty and laughed through his nose. He walked to his mattress and picked the knife from underneath the cloth he had been using as a pillow.
"And you'll catch me? Pray tell, Rusty, what then? Do you know how to get to the smithy?" Joshua started as he placed the knife in his back pocket. He turned to face Rusty.
Rusty's steely eyes bore down on Joshua, his brawny figure towering over him from up close. Joshua smiled as he walked past him, gripping his shoulder with a bony hand.
"C'mon—let's get something to eat. We actually have money for once."
Rusty watched as Joshua left onto the main road. He clenched and unclenched his fists until the waft of rotting flesh once again made its way under his nose. He made a face and grabbed his hatchet before walking out.
The sun slanted outwards on one side, casting shadows before Joshua and Rusty as they followed the main road towards the north end of Trost. The early birds were already scampering from place to place, peering behind corners hopeful for unwatched valuables. Rusty and Joshua watched with amusement as their feet followed the dusty trail. Sometimes, they would catch crossing eyes, but Rusty's height and tight grip on his hatchet made them unappealing company or considerations.
Joshua smirked as he saw two younger hopefuls cross their path. What used to be a popular spot with market stands had been reduced to rubble. Occasionally, Joshua could spot a plank or two of wood within the piles of rock, limbs, and dirt, but he would have questioned where the wood came from had he not been in Trost prior to the attack.
"'Scuse me, mister!"
A young boy stopped in front of Joshua and Rusty. He stared at the two of them, his two other friends only having turned around after reaching a considerable distance. Another clutched his shoulder, hissing at his stupidity before locking eyes with Joshua and Rusty nervously.
Rusty and Joshua stared at him, waiting for the young boy to continue. Rusty's thin eyes lowered down, his head held at an unwelcoming angle. He said nothing and froze, his fist keeping its tight grip on the neck of his hatchet. It seemed from Joshua's stiff demeanor that he seemed just as unwelcoming. The boy had frozen in front of both of them. A couple seconds later, he darted off and chased after friends, who had been laughing at his latest suicide attempt.
Joshua's smirk curled into a teethy grin until he clamped down on his lip to suppress his laughter. He continued to walk, Rusty beside him, and waited until they were out of earshot of the young scavengers.
"Rusty, whatdya think of kids?" Joshua asked, his eyes ahead on the road. Rusty's eyes wandered onto Joshua's back.
Rusty sniffed an air of disapproval, but Joshua remained silent. It wasn't enough of a response.
"They're awful," Rusty vocalized, turning his head and observing the clearing. There were less piles of rubble now than before, and more ceilings and structures. He saw someone sleeping over pieces of rooftile that hung from a jagged edge of a dilapidated ceiling. Joshua and Rusty continued towards the inner end of Trost, away from the outer wall.
"Awful!? They're kids!" Joshua whipped around, facing Rusty with feigned shock in his voice.
Rusty shrugged. "All they do is cry, beg, or shit themselves. I could do without."
"That's no good—you're talking about the future of this nation!" Joshua moaned.
Rusty scoffed as he saw another group of children dash by them. Another child, this time, a girl, had slowed her run, but her friend had the better sense to slap the back of her head, and the girl continued past them.
Joshua seemed satisfied with Rusty's response. He turned himself around again and placed his hands in his pocket, his cloak fidgeting as he did so.
"So I'm guessing you either had no siblings, or a really shitty relationship with your only one," Joshua said, guessing out loud.
Rusty's stiffened. His eyes remained glued on Joshua's back.
"No. No Siblings," Rusty responded dryly.
Joshua sighed halfheartedly. "What a shame. You'd make a great older brother."
By midday, they had reached the square where dilapidated buildings and some representation of populace complemented the piles of rubble that continued to litter the streets. What used to be a labyrinth of homes and stores now stood as a vacant wasteland, the collection of dirt and dust curdling with the blood, vomit, and waste that lingered at the corners of floor-laying stone.
A man rested at the edge of a once-was plaza, propped up by a pillar that originally decorated the entrance of a local produce market. He slouched over, his sunken eyes darkened from his downcast face. The thin rags on his back further accentuated his emaciated figure. Rusty would have left the man for dead, if it hadn't been for the occasional twitching of his fingers and toes, several which had been missing.
Rusty followed Joshua as he approached the man, the buzzing fruit flies dispersing as Joshua crouched down to stare eye to eye.
"Old man," he started.
The man remained still.
"I've forgotten how to get to the bar. Perhaps you can help me."
No response. No eye contact. The fruit flies were getting more comfortable.
Joshua stared at the man. The creases on his forehead lined with dirt, the yellow festered on the lower folds of his eyelid. What remained of his straw-white hair rested on his shoulders, although the top of his scalp had been sunburnt and peeling. It seemed that the flies had begun to take early advantage of their potential host; scabs and dried blood accompanied the bumps filled with white and yellow pus.
Joshua swallowed hard, then receded his arm into his pocket, looking away as he did so. He fingered the leather bag in his right pocket and untied the top, careful to prevent the jingling of coins as with the deftness of his fingers. He palmed a coin as he tightened the bag again.
He brought his hand out of his pocket and revealed a right arm pinching a golden piece between his index finger and his thumb. The glimmer caught the man's attention, and he slowly turned his crusted neck towards Joshua and Rusty. Cracks of exposed skin began to reveal as he moved for what seemed like the first time in days.
"Glad to have you with us. Let's try this again," Joshua started as the coin flipped between his knuckles. Rusty matched the man's gaze as he focused on Joshua's fingers. His hollowed eyes and peeled lips didn't provide much encouragement; Rusty questioned what information Joshua would receive upon goading him.
"The bar."
Nothing.
"The bar." Joshua repeated again, his impatience striking his tone as he clutched the coin out of sight.
The man looked up Joshua.
The pale light blue pupil of his left eye caught Rusty off guard. His knuckles flashed white as his grip tightened on the throat of his axe.
Joshua stared at the man, who looked back at Joshua. His cracked lips parted, as if he'd at last provide some semblance of a response. Joshua felt the heat of his sourly dry breath, but no words accompanied the futile rasping of the half blind man.
Joshua refrained from wincing, but maintained his gaze upon the man. After a lack of response, Joshua sighed, picked himself up, and flicked the coin off his thumb. The man cupped his hands and brought his legs towards his chest as the piece bounced off his bony torso and into his palms. He clasped them together and brought them towards himself. Joshua looked away and proceeded to walk the other direction. Rusty followed after watching the man caress himself with nothing more than a single coin in his clutches.
"The bar?" Rusty repeated as he turned back to face Joshua. He hadn't received an answer, yet Joshua was already marching off.
Joshua looked over his shoulder. "What of it?" he quipped.
"You know where you're going?" Rusty asked. Joshua's pace hadn't slowed in the slightest as he followed after him.
"Yeah."
The two of them departed the plaza and took a beaten path that crossed streets and avenues marred with crumbled squares of what originally stood as homes. Rusty looked around as his feet continued to follow behind Joshua. The beaten path had squeezed into a narrow street, and the crumbled stone seemed to almost hug Rusty's feet. Rusty glanced around occasionally, curious to see what sort of company he'd cross paths with, but none came. An individual or two would be found creating space for him or herself, or in deep slumber, as he'd tell himself, amongst the rubble, but there lacked any sense of community as Joshua and Rusty continued to walk. Nothing but the crunching of stone and dirt underneath his feet filled the air while Joshua led the way. The way Joshua swayed side to side nonchalantly as he walked ahead made Rusty wonder how many times he had done this walk before.
He spotted the aluminum rig that functioned as a small ceiling from a distance out, but it wasn't until he heard the murmuring of voices that things started to fall into place. The makeshift roof stood above the near end of the bar to provide some shade to those who had decided to sit on the stacked crates. The tables were placed at a farther distance, comforted by the casted shade from what remained of the roof on at the other end of the space.
The front of the pub still managed to welcome visitors to a familiar looking establishment, as it remained one of the two sides that still managed to stand. The left and right sides of the pub had collapsed, taking most of the ceiling with it. A tapestry hung on the left side behind the bar, whilst the right side remained piled with rubble, allowing the warm, humid air of summer to fill the pub.
Just as casually as he had sauntered through the morning, Joshua entered the pub and waited for Rusty before shutting the door behind him, the jingling of bells hung on the upper hinges greeting their presence.
The inside was nearly as despondent as the appearance, although Rusty couldn't help but feel a sense of admiration that the bar continued to operate. There were no lights or decorations, predictably so, and it was the gaping opening on the right that provided most, if not all, of the visibility within the bar, although the filmy backdrop through the tapestry provided a nice atmosphere for those who sat by the bar.
Joshua sized the small crowd in front of him; it didn't surprise him to see people in the pub, even in the morning. People would eat whatever the pub could provide in exchange for what little money they gave, or sip on the one watered-down, stale ale they had on stock. Sometimes, when luck would smile down on Trost, the pub would have two varieties, or bubbles would actually float to the top of their mugs. Word would spread on those fortuitous days, and the pub would become a much livelier place, but what Joshua had currently been witnessing was nothing out of the ordinary—except one thing: three soldiers had been sitting at the far end, muttering amongst themselves.
Upon noticing the two roses stitched on the back of the light brown jackets, Joshua glanced over at Rusty, who had shifted his eyes to do just the same.
"How do you feel seeing those roses?" Joshua asked Rusty, a smirk emerging from his lips. He hadn't even managed to look up in time before Rusty marched ahead.
He plopped down at a table adjacent to the soldiers', propping his hatchet behind him. He sat the as far as the table could take him from the three soldiers sitting on a table over. Joshua slowly followed behind. He greeted the bartender who nodded back, and picked out the four other individuals who had been hunched over their bowls. No one sat at the bar, and no one bothered to sit near the soldiers. They would be fine. He took his seat facing Rusty, and savored the ease that sink into his knees.
Rusty wasted no time keeping to himself, and prioritizing on the conversation to his left. Joshua fidgeted for optimal comfort.
"She's late," one of the soldiers started, sighing impatiently. Her thin hair swished across his forehead, the bulk of it tied in a ponytail resting by her shoulders. Long strands neatly made their way behind her ear. She propped himself on her elbows, her blue eyes shifting back and forth restlessly.
Another soldier, whose long, angled face matched the curtness in his voice, responded. "She told us she'd be back and that she'd meet us here. So we're going to wait." He crossed his arms, his food and mug untouched and at a distance away in expressed disapproval.
The bushy-browed bartender ambled over to Rusty and Joshua's table. Joshua looked up at him with a small greeting while Rusty remained unmoved, interlocked fingers placed over his lips.
"We've got barley or ox-tail soup," he offered nonchalantly as he looked over the both of them.
"I'll take the ox-tail," Joshua said.
"Barley," said Rusty. His focus remained on the conversation.
The bartender turned to walk away, but Joshua quipped for his attention.
"We'll also take two of your finest ales," he sang, singing the last two words.
The bushy-eyed bartender turned around and raised a brow. He looked back at Joshua and scanned Rusty before responding.
"And you both got the money for that?" he asked.
Joshua smiled. "We know better than to ask for something we can't afford here."
The bartender paused momentarily, but he couldn't help flashing a smile from the corner of his lips. He turned back without another word.
"Besides, we can't do anything right now but wait," the third soldier responded, her short hair slicked back. "None of us want to stay here any longer than we have to, Holly," she finished with another large gulp of ale.
"Agnes is right," the longed faced boy affirmed with an approving nod. "If all we can do is wait, we wait."
The soldier named Holly sighed in defeat and exasperation as she looked away. She flipped her hair out of her eyes and crossed her arms before propping herself on her elbows again. Her Maneuvering Device clinked as she fidgeted.
"I just fucking hate waiting," she mumbled. "We've put all our eggs in one basket. I don't even want to think of what'll happen if she fails."
The bartender came back to Joshua and Rusty's table and brought two lukewarm mugs of ale. Joshua nodded in gratitude. Rusty continued to listen.
"I can't even go back to Stohess if I ever needed money like that again," Holly said bitterly as she dug her nails into the sleeves of her jacket. "I don't even know how my mom is doing since…" her voice trailed as she stared off. Reports of two titans destroying the city still managed to keep her up at night. Her mother was an avid believer in the divinity of the walls who'd spend most of her spare time in church. It helped repel the impurities of the titans and humans, she'd tell Holly…and now, eight letters later, Holly had yet to receive a reply.
The soldier named Agnes shifted uncomfortably in her seat. Unlike the other two, Agnes's uniform hadn't been strapped with a Maneuvering Device.
"We're all trying to get home right now," the long faced soldier responded. "No one wants to be here more than we need to, and that need has ceased to exist a long time ago."
Holly rolled her eyes.
"Fucking Commander Gordon…" she said, taking another gulp out of her mug, stopping her tongue.
The bartender reappeared with two brown bowls for Rusty and Joshua. Joshua quickly went into his pocket and drew out the polished leather purse. The bartender came up and placed each respective bowl down before them. Joshua smiled, and the bartender returned it. The bartender's gaze caught the full leather purse, and strolled over to the soldiers' table, much to Joshua's surprise. He looked over at Rusty, who had already begun spooning chunks of steaming grains into his mouth. The bar always expected the payment at the same time food came out, but Joshua wouldn't ask questions.
"Anything else I could get for you all?" the bartender asked the soldiers to Joshua's right.
"Can't even afford another drink if I wanted to," the long-faced boy conceded with a sheepish smile.
"Shane!" Agnes hissed. Soldiers were protectors of the common people. What would they think if them if they couldn't even afford another drink? Without skipping a beat, she chipped. "Two more ales, please."
The bartender gave a courteous smile and nodded off. Joshua watched as he returned to the barback. Three gold coins sat on top of each other awaiting his return.
As Joshua began to pocket his purse, Holly caught the glint of the gold coins and the fine leather within Joshua's bony clutches. She turned to look at the red haired boy with a suspicious look.
"Hey," Holly started, addressing Joshua. "Where did you get that pouch?"
Joshua looked over at Holly and withdrew the hot spoon from his mouth. He didn't even get the chance at one of the bones sitting the steaming broth. Rusty lowered his finished bowl from his mouth as his eyes glanced towards the soldiers. He did his best to suppress the smirk that was creeping on his lips.
Joshua picked at a bone and quickly plucked it out of his hot soup.
"I found it," he said nonchalantly. His eyes remained focused on the steaming trailing off the bone as it sat between his fingers. He needed it to cool off.
"Where?" the soldier asked again. The Maneuvering Device clinked again as she shifted her body to face the two of them on her right.
"Off some corpse."
The scraping of the seat against the wooden floor grated against Joshua's ears. He paused momentarily, then began to suck the marrow out of the cooled bone.
"What do you mean 'off some corpse?'" Holly enquired.
The two other soldiers turned to face Joshua and Rusty.
Rusty took a swig of his beer before he looked back at Holly. The sitting boy and the standing girl were strapped with Maneuvering Devices, the hilts of their blades resting on the end. He counted just a measly two blades on each soldier, no other replacements sat deep in their devices. And then there was the soldier that remained distant and wary of the conversation. No, she stared as the scene unfolded, but she stared unarmed. Her eyes narrowed with skepticism and concern, but Rusty saw her balled hands resting on her knees, completely still. She didn't concern him.
Agnes clutched her knees nervously, but she provoked will her to speak. "Holly, sit down—" she started, but was cut off by the standing, bitter soldier.
"Show me the face of the purse," she said, still staring at Joshua and Rusty. Rusty watched as Holly creeped towards their table.
"No, I don't think we will," Joshua said, focused on the next piece of bone he had pinched between his two fingers.
Holly eyebrows rose incredulously. Expressionless, but wary, Shane, the long faced-soldier, took Holly's lead and followed along the other side of the table.
"I don't think you understand the situation," Shane started, his right hand resting on the hilt of his blade.
Rusty brought his now finished mug down on the table. Joshua played with the piece he had in his mouth, savoring every flavor that he could possibly taste.
"I understand that the last thing that I want to hear is more words flowing out of any of your fucking mouths," Rusty said.
Joshua almost spat marrow out.
"Excuse me?" Holly screeched. She brought her hand across her waist and clutched at the handle of her blade. Shane reached across the table and clutched at her sleeve. Her outburst brought other heads to turn.
"We've had a long morning," Joshua interjected, the amusement still imbued in his tone as he watched the soldiers' reaction. "I'd like to apologize for my friend."
Holly remained tight-lipped. It was Shane who spoke.
"Show us the purse," he requested patiently as he lowered his arm back to the hilt of his blade.
Joshua scoffed and rolled his eyes. He looked up at Rusty, who maintained his same, bemused look.
"No."
Shane unsheathed his blade from his Maneuvering Device and stared down at the both of them. Holly quickly followed suit. The blades slid out her Device with a sharp fervor.
"That purse doesn't belong to you," Shane started. "But more importantly, that money doesn't belong to you. It belongs to Holly, Agnes, and me. I don't care where you found it, I don't care how you got it, but as it happens, here you are—"
"Here we are," Rusty repeated as he stood. His shoulders tensed vigorously as he stared at Shane with his steely eyes. "You know what I can't stand about you Garrison cunts? I can't stand the way you all left this city for dead. I can't stand the way that you look down at the rest of us. I can't stand your horse-fucking-face ooze lies out of your cunt mouth."
Shane's cheeks tightened as his sharp dark brown eyes bore down on Rusty. The blade rattled in his white-knuckled grip as his throat went dry. He curled his left hand into a fist and regretted the chance he had to pull both of his blades.
"You're really going to die over a bag of coins?" Shane uttered through gritted teeth.
"Someone is."
It was as if life had abandoned the bar. Everyone froze. Joshua stared at the hands of all the soldiers, his right hand concealed under his shawl and firmly placed on the handle protruding from his back pocket. Rusty waited, his left hand prepared to swing back for the grip of his axe. Shane's nails dug into his palm as his grip remained tight over his blade. Holly's flipped the grips of her blades with the deft movements of her wrists, waiting. Agnes sat at the far end of her table, praying for nothing more than a standoff.
As soon as Shane leapt towards them, Joshua took his bowl and hurled it at him. Shane leapt back and howled as the soup sizzled onto his face. Rusty sprung back and clutched the end of his axe with his left hand. Holly had reeled her arms back as she rushed towards the both of them. With his other hand, Rusty thrust the table on its side, and Joshua quickly scurried behind it. Holly's blades met it and sliced off the top end, right above Joshua's lowered head, with one clean swing.
Rusty's thin, sleek eyes burned as he saw Holly dropped behind the table. Joshua caught Holly's movement, and with a quick thrust of his shoulder, shoved the table to topple over. Holly bounced back to avoid its fall and saw Joshua reveal himself from behind it, the reverse grip on his knife supported with the force of his body.
Holly positioned her wrists to skewer Joshua as he lunged towards her, but it was too late as his blade plunged into her lower belly before her wrists could angle her blades accordingly. She shrieked as the blood spewed out in response, splotching the right side of Joshua's face as he continued with the force of his momentum. The hilt of his blade sank as deep as her skin would permit. Her back smacked hard on the floor, and Joshua raised the blade and the gash higher up her stomach. Her shrieks were clipped by bursts of blood that would rush out her mouth and paint her face.
Shane's blurred vision came back only in time to see the blade of Rusty's axe swing straight across his head. Instinctively, he ducked. The top half of his face still burned a sensitively deep pink, but the pain was only exacerbated when his lowered head met Rusty's raising knee. He heard his nose snap, and dropped the blade that he had tightly held on to just moments ago. He clutched his face in a vain attempt to suppress the pain, exuding a shrill that he had never heard come out his mouth. The pain was brief; Rusty's axe came down from his right and sunk into his ribs, sitting deep in his abdomen. Shane's hands fell to his side as he sunk to the floor with the axe inside him.
What little courage that remained inside Agnes to speak left her once she felt Shane's hot blood splash her face. She froze in sunken despair as the burly man in front of him took a boot to Shane's carcass and yanked the axe out of his side. Shane twitched as he did so. She looked a little beyond her, and the boy, or was it just a skinny man, slowly picked himself off Holly's sliced corpse, rubbing the blood off his face with the cloak he had been wearing. He lowered himself and smeared the blood off his knife with Holly's pant leg.
Joshua breathed out deeply and waited for his heart to slow, closing his eyes and slowly opening them again as he withdrew his arm back behind him to sheath his knife. He looked over to the front, where those in the bar continued to stare. The bartender remained behind the stand with three new mugs in his hand.
Rusty took in a deep breath and looked down at the soldier, a gash in his right side pouring blood that continue to flow out, wrapping around the legs of the table Agnes still sat at. Joshua looked over at Agnes, whose gaze still remained fixated on her dead friends. She didn't speak, she didn't move, her eyes seemed hollowed out in disbelief—concern wasn't even something that she seemed capable of as of yet. Rusty recognized the gaze.
He turned around to face Joshua, who had been bent over searching for the third out of the two coins that had gone missing on the floor. Rusty caught the dull glint of the final coin coated with blood and fingered it out of the mess. He lifted his bloody fingers to show Joshua the final coin, who upon noticing smiled and grabbed it out of his fingers. Rusty followed Joshua to the barstand, and Joshua stacked the three now bloodied coins on top of each other. The bartender looked up at Joshua.
"This is for you," Joshua smiled wryly.
The bartender was not entertained. He stared at Joshua, then averted his gaze to Rusty. His thin lips were spread back, anger and annoyance pulling at each end. Joshua looked back at Rusty. Blood smeared the front of his shirt. The left side of his face was smudged with red that he had originally tried to wipe off with the back of his hand. Rusty looked back at Joshua, and then looked over to the bartender, catching his full gaze. Neither uttered a word.
Joshua turned into his pocket, grabbed three more coins out of the purse, and stacked those beside the other group of coins. He smiled sheepishly again before he left the bar. Rusty followed after him. The pub exuded nothing but a still silence until both Joshua and Rusty had gone, but upon their leave, the muttering amongst the four who had been eating and chatting continued once again, and the bartender began to roll up his sleeves with an exasperated sigh.