For eighteen hours of her day, she had to walk down the aisles in-between the long tables and watch to make sure everyone was doing their job.
It was nauseating. Bodies and corpses were lined up along the tables as workers toiled everyday to pick out the green shards that killed them. The dead had been victims of a massacre of an unusual alter-world weapon years ago that solidified their victims on impact and now they were too valuable. It was believed that the green shards could be used as a temporary new fuel source but first they had to remove every little shard from all life that it had affected…including 7 million humans.
It was also devastating. The workers in Olivia's unit were all women but most of them were sick, disabled, or just not in any shape or form to work with dangerous materials. They had no protection from their contact with the dead except for some cheap latex gloves and surgical masks but no aprons or protective coats. The green shards were sharp and many would still get cuts while working to pick them out.
After months on the job, Olivia still didn't know how she got so lucky. Perhaps her toughness was exactly what these people needed to keep the workers in line. Though she rarely punished anyone. It wasn't something that she could get away with for very long, but she failed to see the point in beating the crap out of someone when there weren't even enough people alive to work.
She wasn't sure if this place was even a prison or a refugee camp. The environment was too harsh to be considered a refugee camp yet those who ran this complex insisted it wasn't a prison. People got food, clothing, hygiene supplies, and even their own living spaces but it was all of mediocre quality. And despite being a skilled shooter and guard, Olivia still wasn't treated any better than the poor women she was hired to keep an eye on. The sweat of the living would often mix with the stench of the dead and it made the small factory impossible to breathe in.
Olivia was seriously going to need a drink after tonight…except it's been way too long since she had one.
The women worked like sickly zombies never daring to look up from their work. Olivia tried often to not look at them. She had pity in her eyes for these people who were slowly wasting away, but her face was forbidden from showing any emotion.
She noticed that one of the girls was missing from her post. It was rather unusual because breaks were rare and far in-between but maybe she had already passed out and was taken away.
She might as check with that bastard Thatcher, the man who supervised the sorting of fuels in his department. But he only came out to randomly scream at people who weren't working. Other times, he would just stay in his office to bang some prostitute who managed to weasel her way out of working in a factory like this.
When she walked around the wall, she heard strange cries, almost like whimpering.
On the other side, Thatcher had a young woman pinned to his desk…the same woman who was missing from her post.
"Thatcher!"
The man looked up at Olivia bitterly taking his hand off the woman's leg, the other slid out from under her skirt. As soon as the woman was free, she quickly walked pass Olivia daring not to look anyone in the eye. But Olivia turned to her and said, "Just get back to work." The woman quickly retreated.
"You've been nothing but a pain in my ass since you started here, Hill," Thatcher growled.
"Only doing my job," she said, showing no fear. "We're gonna have a hard time meeting quota with you busy feeling up all the workers."
Thatcher laughed grossly at her. "You're taking this job far too seriously. What are you expecting? A promotion?"
"I'm not the one sitting on my ass calling themselves a supervisor."
"You should watch your mouth," Thatcher threatened her.
"Don't need to," said Olivia. "I'm the one they let carry a gun."
She knew she was probably stepping her boundaries but in this reality, she didn't care. Just as she was turning to leave, Thatcher turned her back to face him. She tried to fight him off but he instead swiped the gun from Olivia's hands and threw it aside. Then he shoved her against a wall.
Olivia stood her ground despite the fact that Thatcher seemed to be smirking with victory. He managed to pin both of Olivia's hands behind her back.
"I wouldn't do this," Olivia threatened him.
Thatcher laughed. "You think I'm gonna be shaken up by a threat from that husband of yours? Walter is just a lowly butcher, but I am your supervisor. That means I get to do all I want…" Thatcher grabbed a hold of Olivia's hair then leaned closer to her ear. "…and touch…all I want."
The disgust was already running through her body before she felt that cold sickening tongue of his come in contact with the side of her neck. It took its sweet time traveling upwards all the way to her earlobe where it chose to tease her with a few laps.
By then, the whistle blew. Olivia was able to quickly free herself from Thatcher's loosened grip. He was disappointed that the time was short lived but had a look of victory on his face when he saw the look of fear and disgust in Olivia's face. She reached for her gun before disappearing behind the wall but now she had been unwillingly proved to Thatcher that she was a fraud, helpless and vulnerable beyond her authoritarian position.
***
Work in the slaughterhouse let out much earlier than the factory. Every night, Peter would wait outside for her while amidst the seedy individuals who he would sometimes make trades with.
At 1am the factory let out as usual and Peter immediately spotted Olivia keeping her mask on as she herded everyone out the gate while the factory was shutting down for the night. As usual, she looked exhausted and overworked but she managed to put on a smile for him.
"Hey."
She took a quick glace over and saw Thatcher. He was walking away in the opposite direction but he eyed Olivia with that vicious smirk he gave her. Peter noticed.
"What happened?! Are you okay?!"
"I'm fine."
"He do something to you?"
"No," said Olivia. "Nothing happened, alright? Can we just go?" Olivia just wanted Peter to drop it even though he could easily sense when she wasn't telling the truth. Together, the two of them just walked back to their housing unit…a boarded up motel that had disintegrated to almost nothing. The roof and walls had become paper-thin, and the pair would enter their room greeted by a dozen pests or so that made the place their home. Still compared to the lower workers who were living in crowded tents, Peter and Olivia were living in post-apocalyptic luxury.
Olivia spent a lot of time in the bathroom scrubbing away at her neck while Peter was busy making dinner.
"Hey Liv," said Peter. "Don't spend all night in there. I have a little surprise for you."
"We're having lobsters for dinner?"
Peter laughed. "This is better than lobster."
Olivia came out of the bathroom surprised to find just a couple of containers on the table.
"Spam and nacho chips?"
"With that little surprise." Peter pulled from underneath a table two shot glasses and a small glass container. Olivia looked at it with disbelief. "Is that?"
"That," said Peter. "…is likely the last bottle of Bourbon in all of Wacko New England."
Olivia looked ecstatic. It was the most that either of them had smiled in a long time.
"How in the world did you get this?"
"Liv, I'm a butcher. And there are a lot of alcoholics in this place. Can't say I blame them though."
Peter poured bourbon into both shot glasses. "Try to resist taking more than a few drinks," said Peter. "I don't want this to be the last night that we ever have any sort of fun."
The two of them took their first shot and made a toast to having survived all the f*cked up things they had endured in the past year. They took their time slowly despite the fact that they still had work in the morning. They were both in need of one night to relax and loosen up, not having to worry or dread about their difficult situation and any night to do so was good. The two wait in silence for their drinks to take the desired effect.
In one hour, Peter and Olivia got through 5 shots each, a little more than they had intended, and they went and sat on the bed they had to share. They were still playing the role of husband and wife. Yet neither could deny that the roles were getting under their skin as of late. They couldn't help but be a little closer to each other than they ever were. There was no one else in this reality they could rely on but each other.
"I've done it again," said Olivia.
Peter sat close to Olivia. "What's that?"
"I failed us again. You know it's bad enough I don't even have the ability anymore that's caused everything to begin with…but now I thought we'd be able to just walk out of here. They're not making it easy for us."
"No, they're not," said Peter. He put an arm over Olivia's shoulders and said, "I'm sure we'll figure out a way to get back to Boston that won't get us killed."
Olivia shook her head. "It's been a whole year, Peter. And who knows if there's still even a Boston since we left."
Peter sighed. "I know. But…as long were both still here…I think we'll be okay. Yes, we might have cockroaches crawling up our legs. But who's to say we can't make a decent life for ourselves here?"
Olivia leaned in until her head was resting against Peter. "We've done nothing but survive for the past year. I miss being able to live."
For a while they leaned on each other in silence. The slight buzz of the alcohol was slowly fading, something Olivia did not want. She turned her head up to Peter with a look of weakness, a look of need…
And ever so naturally she let her lips collide with his own.
Peter was shaken up but quickly gave in. She was definitely right about either of them not having "lived" in a long time. In a place like this, it was impossible to live or to even feel anything. The only time Peter ever felt a little bit at home was with Olivia. Fingers were digging through Peter's hair and soon the message became all too clear…
Tonight they both wanted to feel something…anything.
He placed his hands on her hips with every intention of sliding them upwards…more than willing to give them both what they wanted.
From there, they had become one with the surreal dying world they were trapped in. Clothes fell to the floor to be one with the cockroaches and the two of them fell unto the bed…to be one with each other.
The night was filled with rude noises from neighbors and the squeaking from the bed as they moved in unison, but Peter could only focus on the soft moans that came from Olivia's lips. He swears that in all his days of lovemaking, he had never heard anything so beautiful as the shudders and breaths that she gave, accompanied by the whispers of his name. It only made him want to take more of her, and his pleasure increased with the sound of her own.
There was no doubt about it when Olivia began digging her nails into Peter.
End-of-the-world sex was hot!
***
She preferred using Peter's bare body as a blanket for her own but there was no getting sleep tonight. Olivia felt his lips press against her head and said, "I have to tell you something."
Olivia smiled in the dark. "Okay."
"Seriously though," said Peter. "You can't tell anyone what I have to tell you. You have to swear that what I say never leaves this bed."
"Alright. What is it?"
There was silence and then Peter sighed as he whispered the words into Olivia's ear.
"…I miss Walter."
And for the first time in forever, Olivia laughed and she laughed hard.
***
Weeks went by and both Peter and Olivia were feeling nauseous from their worsened situation. More workers were falling like flies. It made the two of them feel a little guilty that they were the stronger and tougher ones witnessing all the death and destruction around them.
Olivia now had only 2/3 of the people in her department barely alive. The smells had worsened and Peter and Olivia found themselves throwing up on occasion…Olivia a little moreso.
Work was getting harder for Olivia. Her legs trembled with every step and she was feeling more and more dizzy. One day, she was on the verge of collapsing until she heard a scream.
Her thoughts turned away from her weak state to the crisis at hand. One of the workers caught her clothes in one of the corpse crushing machines. Despite the number of guards around, no one seemed to care that this was happening. They were all too focus on keeping up with quota.
Olivia rushed over. She quickly realized the difficulty of the situation. It would be too late to get the woman out of her complex set of rags she wore and the machine was slowly pulling her elbow in more with every passing second.
It was a huge risk but a life was at stake. Olivia ran into Thatcher's office, not caring if he was there. She went straight for the control panel for all the machines in the building and before Thatcher knew what she was doing, Olivia pulled out her gun and opened fire on every control she spotted.
The noise of machines breaking down, minor explosions here and there, distracted everyone and shut down everything…including the one that was close to killing that woman.
"What the fuck did you do?!"
Thatcher grabbed Olivia but she quickly butt-headed him. Soon the other guards ganged up on Olivia disarming her and beating her, but Thatcher assured them that he would handle this. By now Olivia could no longer pulled herself up. "I'm taking this one outside," Thatcher said as he dragged her out.
Behind the factory, there was a small isolated area that was clearly a punishment area for all the delinquents. He threw Olivia to the ground but she quickly swung her leg tripping Thatcher. But before Olivia could get up, Thatcher threw another punch at her. She pushed him back and suddenly she saw in his hand, a brick…a bloodstained brick.
"Sorry to end things this way," he said almost seducingly.
Olivia closed her eyes for the oncoming strike.
It didn't come.
Peter had appeared out of nowhere, pushing Thatcher off of Olivia. He swung a punch. Thatcher swung a strong one back forcing Peter to turn and he saw the brick. It was an impulse decision and at the same time, it wasn't. Peter reached for the brick and he was determined to swing back at Thatcher hard.
He didn't care about the consequences of his actions or if it would take a hundred hits to do it.
It was all for Olivia.
The brick came strong, practically smashing Thatcher's skull to the ground.
Peter and Olivia took one quick look at each other and quickly read each other's mind.
Now or never…it was time.
They had broken open one of the fence locks and dashed into the woods by the time that the others began their pursuit. The difference between life and death was now based on how fast they could run.
It was dark and Peter saw Olivia wandering off on her own separate path. Unknown to him, Olivia was starting to feel dizzy and her vision was getting blurry once more, but she heard Peter call out "Just keep running!"
Behind him, Peter could hear the gunshots. The pair had gotten deeper and deeper into the woods, yet these guys were not giving up. They were responsible for destroying an entire factory's machinery after all.
But suddenly, a sharp pain got Peter in the foot. He wanted it to be nothing, until he finally fell. He glanced up and saw that Olivia was still running, unaware of what had happened.
He couldn't tell how close they were getting. His breathing was getting shorter. He couldn't yell for Olivia. He didn't want to.
"Don't look back, Liv," he breathed. "Just keep running."
She was still running when Peter closed his eyes.