Followers of the Light

Chapter 4 - Six Hours Past the End (12 AM)

Glass shattered on the ground. Only this time, I was the one who broke them. And it was from the sixth convenience store I visited that night trying to salvage their food. We managed to loot a couple of unburned supplies to store in his backpack before both of us went up to the last shop's rooftop. We checked the roof deck with a small torchlight and camped there to rest. The night was fiery red. There were silhouettes of smoke ascending to the sky. That guy dropped his backpack near me and checked our surroundings from the corners. Meanwhile, I sat down, I took a bottled water to drink and wash my hands and wounds.

I looked at that guy. I thought he was weird and messy. His short hair looking like greying wild grass. He was young, but looked old to me. Anyway, I decided to talk to him before it becomes awkward. "So... Thanks. What's your name?"

He looked over his shoulder in confused expression.

"Seriously, you don't remember?" he said, talking a like a hooligan. He lit up the cigarette on his mouth and flicked the matchstick away. Then blew the smoke out of his mouth and nose, trailing to the back. "My voice, my look, the way I talk - you really can't recall?"

"No...?"

"Oh, shit, that classic no...?" he chuckled. "You really are dumb, aren't you Tomato?"

"What the− hey, I don't like that!"

"I'm Grote! Remember me, you blockhead?"

"Oh! Now I remember you, you jerk-off! I still remember those days until now!"

"No, you don't! You didn't even remember me!"

"I do! I mean, I didn't because you look so old now! But I remember what you did!"

"Yeah right. Shut up." he dropped the cigarette and squashed it with his black work boot.

"Oh my God! I really, really, hate you!"

"You hate me? Good ahead and walk away then! See how long you gonna last out there." he smiled. "Oh wait, what if I didn't bail you out just now?"

I would be stuck there, of course. As much as I disliked him, I really needed someone. He seemed capable back then, though hate to admit. But why it had to be him, I never know.

After that, he sat down in front of me, opening a bag of chips we took just now. He picked a couple pieces and handed it to me. "Eat some!" he offered. So I took my share and ate them. I was thinking about asking something the old man hinted earlier.

"I'm curious."

"About?" he said while loudly munching.

"What the old man said, about the trade. What does he do?"

"Well, sacrificing people."

"Sacrificing? For what exactly?"

"For our lives, of course. Those Tumbleweads kept coming, but we were losing in number. So they tried to get some people to join. Those who seem capable to fight, they stay. Those who can't, they will be fed to the Tumbleweads."

"Then who are they actually?"

Grote grabbed his jacket sleeve. "The same as how we refer to Prosperistus army: The Greens. Except they are now survivors from the army themselves, policemen, and everyone else who are tough enough to fight. I came across three of them while fighting Tumbleweads off an injured lady. They helped me and brought us to the park, only to see that lady we rescued given to the Tumbleweads to keep them away!"

"So I suppose I was next?"

"Considering you're a girl, yes, you were!" He munched the chips in his mouth. "Unless a better looking one came in. Or...a man that's wealthy-looking."