The floor hadn't exactly been the best option to use as blanket. However, the Sergeant wasn't a stranger to adapting to the available resources.
Gary cracked his neck, yawning. As soon as he finished scanning the bathroom he huffed, softly punching the ground. That minuscule particle of his subconscious was wrong; it hadn't been a dream, it was all real.
So, he gathered some of the water from the bottle in his hands and splashed it on his face. Immediately, he felt better, ready to start his search.
First things first, he looted the remaining canned food in the supermarket, stuffing as many containers as his bag could house. It wasn't technically stealing. After all, if everyone had died, there was no reason for him to pay!
Gary peered at the sky, tracing the grey clouds meshed together. Soft tingling alerted his skin, and the Sergeant unfurled a hand, palm facing upwards. There was no mistakening the tiny drops of water wetting the center.
It was going to rain.
A burning inquiry took ahold of the young man. If the temperature had raised so much during the passed centuries, how was it still able to rain?
Perhaps...
Perhaps not all of the oceans had become a uniform mass of dry land. And when CO2, steam, and other gasses evaporate in the air, clouds tend to form.
Either way, if rain was plausible, then life could be sustained.
The only problem was that he didn't wish to soak under such harsh weather. It was going to be painful... adapting to the sudden switch of hot and cold environment.
Maybe he could snatch specific articles of clothing for these separate occasions...
Navigating through the Big Apple was easier than expected. Gary's trips to the city were brief, but he also memorized certain patterns in case he would come visit again. The exploration with his family had been one of the few opportunities for relax before he was called for service.
He barged through an entrance to a clothes shop, rubbing his right shoulder. Again the main entrance had been sealed, and again he had to vandalize to enter. The part of Gary belonging to the 21st century screamed at him that this was wrong, but a newly-born part (the one who wished to survive in this post-apocalyptic era) claimed that this was a necessary evil.
"Ah!"
Well, at least the articles of clothing were of decent size; certainly not as wide as the jumpsuits worn by those obese Axiom residents. Gary's military bag slid down on the ground, while the Sergeant himself put his fists on his hips.
"Let's see..."
He was spoiled for choice, indeed, but he would focus on a strict list. Gary required something to protect him from the cold rain, while he would stick with his green shirt for the hot days.
The Sergeant rummaged through the various sections, not liking what he was seeing so far. He launched what he wouldn't acquire behind his shoulders, the articles of clothing flying through the air before they landed unceremoniously into a big pile.
Fifteen minutes passed without a concrete result. Gary huffed, pinching his nose. "What is really important for this type of weather?" He pondered aloud, eyes darting between the various clothes.
They stopped on a particular garment, laying folded across the counter. He trekked onwards, touching the sides of the desk as he analyzed the object of interest.
It was a raincoat, dark green in colour, but closer to a poncho.
Bingo!
Gary ran his fingers on the material, bobbing his head in satisfaction at its well-preserved state. He clutched onto it and stretched it in a single wave of his hands.
The Sergeant applied some minor adjustments as his appendages slid effortlessly into the holes. It was a perfect fit; Gary felt like the most lucky son of a bitch in current existence.
By now the rain's frequency and strength were hammering down the outside of the shop. Raising the hood over his head and retrieving his bag, Gary exited the establishment and stood still.
Perfect.
The material functioned as expected, absorbing the liquid for its wearer. Gary's boots slapped into newly-formed puddles as he searched for a decent transportation. He couldn't find umbrellas, so he had opted for the most logical solution.
WALL-E's truck appeared to be located somewhere near lower Manhattan. The only way to rapidly reach that destination was taking a train.
And if Gary's memory wasn't playing tricks on him...
Ah, hah!
The exit station sported a sign he had hoped to encounter. 'BnL Transit, Downtown Terminal.' This was his ticket out of this section of New York.
He went up the stairs, using the metal rod attached beside him to stabilize his weight. The Sergeant looked left and right, spotting a pad located in front of the rail itself. It presented the hologram of a human palm. Shrugging, Gary pressed his hand precisely as the hologram instructed.
Wirring sounds and rustling of metal indicated his successfulness. Gary chose a bench protected from the rain by the ceiling and sat down, drumming his fingers on his legs.
TICK!
Mmmh?
His foot had nudged a pen.
The Sergeant shifted his stance to collect the object. Thinking quickly, he produced Markus' notebook and checked if the ink hadn't been fully consumed. And once black traces were left behind? Gary scrolled through the diary until he settled on the first blank sheet.
Day 1.
This is my testament in case the harsh conditions of planet Earth will claim my life, as they did for those before me.
I apologize for stealing this diary and desecrating the remains of its previous owner: Markus. I hope God had mercy on your soul.
So far, New York has proven that supplies may last centuries, if properly protected by buildings. Clearly, soda cans somehow explode because of the high temperature, while water bottles resist the effect.
A chemical reaction induced by the different ingredients in the soda? Fuck if I know.
There's only one who can help me. I can only hope he resides right where I expect him to be.
-Sergeant Gary Sanderson.
The Sergeant's transportation halted in front of him just as he finished signing his first note. He put both the notebook and pen inside his bag, and directed his gaze up and down the automated train. For dating almost seven centuries without proper maintenance, the wagon worked too well. Maybe WALL-E spent his free time by tinkering with its systems?
As soon as he sat down, a scanner lighted up his body. The Sergeant lifted a hand, shielding his vision from the sudden appearance, and groaning from the brightness itself.
"Welcome aboard, new passenger." A female AI greeted him once the scanning part ceased. "It has been approximately twenty five years since a new user has registered in the BnL transportation database. May I memorize your name?"
"Uh, sure..." The Sergeant coughed. "Gary Sanderson."
"Confirming new user profile..." The AI folded the ramp he had crossed to get inside and shut the passenger door. "Welcome aboard, Mr. Sanderson. Where might I guide you, today?"
"Well, uh..." He halted his mumbling, snapping his attention back at the ceiling. "Wait, you've spent twenty five years without a new user registering?"
"Affirmative."
"Wouldn't the other passenger be a little robot named WALL-E?" He probed, wincing at the rain splattering against the wagon's windows.
"Negative. The other registered passenger is named Wally, a human worker participating in the WALL-E program."
Why did sound like the AI replaced the 'E' at the end of the name with another letter? But the Sergeant held his cheek with a fist, rolling his eyes. "I don't suppose he's still alive and that you could take me to his zone of operation, right?"
"Affirmative. Course set, we'll be arriving in... ten minutes."
Gary detached his fist from his cheek. "Wait, what?"
Too late, the wagon immediately moved, engine practically roaring as the AI took control. The force sent him against his seat, so he slapped two hands onto the window behind him and gritted his teeth. "Jesus!" He hissed.
I really don't want to argue with a woman AI. Better to let this one slide.
Instead, he spent the remaining minutes of his journey pondering over the best approach with the other human.
Okay, okay. So, WALL-E is a human too. If he has the same personality from the movie, quick movements will scare him off. Better to approach him slowly.
What would he be like, anyway? As innocent as his robotic counterpart? Or was he an hardened survivor with the same ruthlessness and unpredictability that characterized Gary's entire race?
A sense of responsability washed over the Sergeant.
If the former option reveals to be true, he'll be vulnerable. He... he doesn't deserve all of this.
Maybe having a friend would help him?
Then again, the main reason Gary was searching him for, was his knowledge of the city and the truck he had adopted as refuge. The Sergeant sighed, burying his face into his hands.
Selfish to the end. Why are we so flawed as a species?
The wagon suddenly vibrated.
"We have arrived at the requested destination. Please, step off the ramp with caution, and enjoy your day! We hope to see you again at the BnL Transit!"
"Oh, uh..." Gary rubbed his neck, waiting for the rump to unfold. "Thank you, ma'am." He nervously added, frustration and embarassment meshing together.
Finding WALL-E's truck was going to be hard as it is. But doing so under the rain? No, he will survey the landscape and pray to God that he would stumble upon the human by accident.
The Sergeant stared at the broken and barely held-together cranes. Those mighty beasts were once exploited to accumulate great masses of trash. Then, the trash would be transported into an incinerator. This begged the question: How the fuck did BnL's consumism and productivity doom humanity? Weren't there initiatives like in his world to stop this disaster from ever existing?
Where were the environmentalists? The animalists? The associations to promote a resounding stop to this madness?
Even then, if Buy 'N Large was so concerned about their investments, they should have known polluting the planet and driving the human race into space would hurt their profits.
Sometimes, Gary wondered if the screenwriters had ever thought about these details...
The number of amassed cubes in his path grew significantly, forming towers of junk. Gary stopped his advance in front of a hydraulic compacter, circling it in utter fascination.
So, this is what the WALL-Es use to clean...
It wasn't anything special. Trash was supposed to enter a pipe union on the lower side, then the machine would process the junk into the desired form, and finally the cube exited from a main cavity in the front. The workers grabbed the cubes and stashed them together like in that janitorial advertisement.
The Sergeant rubbed his chin, careful not to wet his fingers with the rain.
But how to grab a considerable quantity of junk?
Doing so by hand seemed tedious. How did the workers manage to create entire art operas?
Gary froze, wondering if his ears had deceived him.
A single sound had met him. A sound he had thought he would never hear again.
A bark.
He turned around. Oh, shiiiit. There was no mistaking what he was facing. Immediately, he attempted to formulate a logical explanation for this development. And yet, there wasn't anything sufficient to excuse it from existing.
It was a dog; its tail cutely wagging as it tilted its head at the Sergeant.
Gary couldn't associate the mutt with any known breed, so he easily classified it as a bastard. Still, its appearance tugged at the extremities of a golden retriever and a labrador. Its coat was wet and slightly dirty from the pounding rain, but the dog seemed not to care for it.
"Heyyy, buddy." He tried to coerce the mutt in trusting him, kneeling and patting his flank, his military bag forgotten for the time being. "What are you doing here all alone?"
The dog took a step towards him.
That's it...
"Have you lost your owner?" Gary faked a gasp. "You must be hungry! You want a treat? I know you do!"
The mutt's head perked at the familiar word, and it crossed the remaining space in one single hop. It perked its butt onto the ground, maintaining its snout upwards.
He's trained. The Sergeant hummed as the canine accepted the treat he had recovered from his bag and munched onto it. Could he be WALL-E's dog? But he had a roach in the movie as a pet.
Calling the dog a 'He' was rather simple. Gary had spotted the... reproductive organ beneath the animal and immediately averted his gaze. This mutt was in good health and full of energy. Who had taken care of him?
"BULLET! Where are you?!"
Gary stared in shock as another human revealed himself and joined their little party. It was a young man, perhaps of the Sergeant's exact age, and was holding an unfolded umbrella to protect his upper body from the rain.
He sported unchecked brown hair, brown eyes, no facial hair whatsoever, and a jumpsuit similar to the WALL-E dead workers Gary had encountered. Dirt and grime filled the guy's face, while his innocent eyes looked around 'till they posed on the dog.
"There you are!" He smiled... but halted his advance once Gary entered his field of view.
Now that the young man had slightly lifted his umbrella, Gary could see the pair of strange goggles resting on his forehead.
"Uhm..." The Sergeant drawled. "Hello?" He waved at the strange dude, unsure of his origins and stance on strangers.
There was... a small crude-looking device embedded into his chest. Four yellow-ish notches indicated a full charge, while the object itself, of the same size as a cellphone, was apparently connected to the young man's inner chest through sorted cables.
It was... a pacemaker? Of a primitive design, sure, but a pacemaker nonetheless. Judging by those notches, the device required external recharging to last for specific windows of time.
And, also, why did Gary feel like he had already met him?
The worker took a step back, uncertainty properly displayed on his face through an ever-growing frown. He was scared... scared of Gary.
"Hey, hey!" The Sergeant raised the palm of his hands, facing forward. "I'm... not here to hurt you." He proclaimed, hoping this would placate the worker's troubled state of mind. "Is this dog yours?" He then asked, pointing a finger at the mammal he had encountered.
The worker slightly nodded.
That's good progress.
Gary inched closer and closer, stopping every now and then to allow the worker some breathing room. When he was directly facing him, the Sergeant straightened his posture and offered a handshake, smiling warmly. "My name is Gary Sanderson." He looked around him. "I'm... kinda lost. Can you help me?"
He didn't push the other guy in shaking his hand, preferring to let him do it by his own initiative.
When he did, however, the Sergeant noticed he possessed a good grip... for a trash collector.
"W-Wallace Burtt." The guy answers to him. "But you can call me Wally." The worker softly smiled at him, easily breaking the ice.
A lump formed in the Sergeant's throat, inducing a series of coughs. Once he calmed down (and subsequently controlled the heat flowing to his cheeks), Gary bobbed his head at the confused young man before him.
"Nice to meet you. It's Wally with a 'Y', yes?"
"Yes!"
Wally was too bright in his responses, carrying a childish bounce of tone. Perhaps the Sergeant's worries were unfounded, devoid of logic. The young man before him was simply a victim of today's broken society, craving close contact as any other human did.
"How old are you?" Gary asked. "The AI in the wagon said a new passenger hasn't registered in twenty five years. Is that your age?"
"Yep!" Wally tilted his head, pointing his free finger. "How old are you?"
"Twenty six."
He had to suppress a chuckle at the cute way Wally's innocent eyes widened. Was the trash collector surprised he had met someone older than him? Did he feel like he was supposed to look up at Gary for guidance? An idol of some kind?
The Sergeant was just a year older than him, for crying out loud!
"So, his name is Bullet." Gary added, nudging his chin after the mutt, who had nested between the two humans, snout resting onto his paws. The Sergeant's sentence wasn't a question, but a factual statement from the words he had picked up. "For how long have you owned him?"
"Two years. I've raised him since his mother died of sickness when he was a puppy." Wally crouched to scratch Bullet's ears. The dog rumbled contentedly. "He's good at tracking food. We were just looking for supplies."
Bingo!
"What a wonderful coincidence." Gary turned to snatch his bag from the ground. He presented it to Wally. "I've gathered food from a supermarket on the other side of the city. I've even got some medicines." The Sergeant glanced at the sky, wincing lightly. "Uhm, not to say that our parley isn't lovable, but I would prefer for it to continue under a roof. Rain isn't, exactly, the best background to talk. Do you live nearby?"
An inner battle commenced inside of Wally. The Sergeant could fully witness it by his inability to conceal his emotions. Still, he admired Wally for not jumping at the opportunity of inviting someone in his home. Gary was a total stranger for the trash collector. And strangers were hard to trust.
"Who knows?" Gary shrugged. "We might even become friends!"
Those pupils of his practically shined.
Gotcha!
"Really?!"
Wally got a bit too close to Gary. The Sergeant took a step back with a nervous smile, trying to avoid the umbrella from scraping his cheeks.
It seemed that the trash collector got the memo, rapidly going back in his tracks. "Oh, sorry!" He almost screeched, blushing. "I-uh..." He pointed at Gary's clothes. "W-what are you wearing?"
Changing the subject to appear less goofy? Way to go, Wallace...
"It's a raincoat. A poncho, if you will. It helps protect my body from the rain." Gary cleared his throat. "Now, may we proceed into your home?"
"Sure!"
There was a concrete bounce in Wally's steps as he padded the way with Bullet. Gary merely grabbed his bag and silently tailed the trash collector.
Maybe that's what we both need. A friend.
Author's note:
You know, I wanted to make Wally's personality peculiar, tugging between a hardened survivor and his cute, little self.
This is my version.