Across the Deadzone

Chapter 12: Wystan

"I told you to stay inside," Ophelia said as I pulled her into the safety of the town walls, her voice somehow even gruffer than usual. I gaped at her, probably looking a lot like a water-starved fish.
"You were in trouble," I started, trying to stay calm so I wouldn't attract the attention of her new adoring fans. "So was the rest of my town. I couldn't just sit around and do nothi-"
"And yet, that's what happened, isn't it?" she asked hotly, blowing a stray piece of hair away from her face.
My jaw clenched as I bit back a sharp retort. Without another word, I dragged her to medbay. I insisted that everyone go home, spread the word that the threat had been averted, and try to get some sleep before the first bell rang.
"Go home, Wystan," Ophelia started, but I cut her off with a shake of my head. With a sigh and a barely contained eye roll, she stepped inside the smaller cavern, hidden from the public by a thin white sheet with a cross made from faded red paint.
Colma wasn't working- thank God. She had the day shift, or she used to. Healers were only called in when they were off-shift for real emergencies. It had happened pretty frequently when we had been living together.
Ophelia perched herself on one of the worn, almost-collapsed cots. It squealed under her weight, so I decided my best bet was to stand by the door, my arms crossed across my chest to keep from fidgeting with my hands. I managed to fail miserably, and ended up picking at my fingernail.
A bald, middle-aged man approached her. He wore a tank top, the sleeves torn off seemingly on purpose, which revealed the black swirl tattoo that all healers received when they finished their training. He had dark purple rings lining the underside of his eyes, which led me to believe that he'd just started on the nightshift and wasn't used to the time difference yet.
He went through the standard questions with Ophelia- asking if she could still flex her hand, if she felt faint- that sort of thing.
I glanced around, inspecting the space. Despite dating Colma, I'd never spent much time in medbay. Colma usually brought my meds to me, and I had a fairly risk-free job, as far as the apocalypse was concerned.
Even with my lack of knowledge, there seemed to be more people than usual in the cramped cavern. Some with hands that had been trampled in the chaos, or those who'd tripped and skinned their knees. Most were pretty minor, and we were probably lucky for that.
Ophelia had brought up a good point, though: there were no guards on duty. At least six were always supposed to be. And what happened tonight could've been avoided, which begged the question: where the hell were they?
I started thinking about how I'd bring this up in the next town meeting, before remembering that I wasn't going to be there for it, or any town meeting after. The thought seemed to suck the air from my lungs, and I fought to breathe. Was I really going to give all this up for her?
Ophelia noticed, her eyes widening only slightly. She struggled away from the healer, who was trying to carefully wrap her arm in clean gauze.
"Do you need your meds?" she asked quietly, not touching me. The bandage hung limply from her arm.
Her words felt like a punch in the stomach. I don't know why, but I didn't think she had noticed the pills I took. It made me feel even weaker than I usually did. She seemed to have gone through so much in the past few years, and yet she was stoic and strong. And then there was me, safely tucked away in a cavern-town, surrounded by relative luxuries and people who did anything they could to help me, and I was the one taking anxiety meds.
My mouth went dry, and I squeezed my eyes shut so tightly white stars erupted behind my eyelids. "Wystan?" Ophelia called, her voice barely making its way into my scrambled mind. My entire body shook.
I felt hands on my arms, which gradually brought me back to reality.
"Wys?"
I stilled, my breathing slowing.
Once I could actually see straight again, I looked down at her, her mouth slightly open in alarm. "You used my old nickname?" I asked, so quietly my words could have been passed off as a gentle breeze. It was a weird thing to focus on, but it struck me, moved me in a way. This had also been the first time in a long time that I hadn't had to use my meds to stop a panic attack.
I glanced around, glad to see that everyone was too preoccupied with their own injuries that they didn't notice my little freak-out. Except the healer, who asked me if I was alright in a hushed whisper.
I offered him a stiff nod. He frowned, but accepted my answer, leading Ophelia back to the old cot, although she protested.
Suddenly, she cursed, and the healer took a step away, looking puzzled. "Did I hurt you?" he asked, concerned. Ophelia shook her head, her eyes scanning the floor around her.
"My bracelet's gone," she muttered with a scowl, her voice betraying how distressed that fact made her.
"I'll find it," I promised, rushing from the small room. I needed some time to breathe anyway. I closed my eyes, blowing out a long, slow breath. I don't think today can get any worse. And the sun isn't even up yet.
I filtered through the carnage. Trash, supplies, and merchandise littered the floor. This was all caused by panic. By people. The monster hadn't even managed to get inside. I could only imagine what this place would look like if it had.
Before I knew what was happening, I was at the wall again. Everything was silent. Eerily so. Even this late at night, I'd never heard Hemmington this quiet. Everyone was still holed up in their homes, fearing for their lives.
I pushed my palm flat against the pieced-together metal wall, running my hand across it as I walked toward the small opening. Once I reached it, I paused. The coppery, metallic smell of blood hitting my nostrils made me cringe. There were corpses right out there.
I'd seen a dead body before, obviously. Who hasn't, these days? But it was Thayer and his mom Octavia, right out there. A sick feeling rolled around in my stomach. I'd known them for years. Thayer had helped me find a job when I first came to Hemmington. And Octavia had helped me find a flat once I had enough money to buy one.
I found myself wishing that it had been anyone else in that group who had been picked off by the mutated scorpion, other than Ophelia. Once I realized the thought had run through my mind, I shook my head, silently chiding myself. Those people had friends, too, maybe even families. None of them deserved that either.
With a steadying breath, I stepped out of Hemmington. I was out in the open, exposed, where anything could have me for a midnight snack. I guess I'll have to get used to this feeling.
I tried to keep my eyes open for O's bracelet as well as making sure I wasn't being hunted, while also not letting my eyes stray toward the bodies.
A faint silver shimmer caught my eye, barely visible in the pale moonlight unless you were looking for it.
I kept my eyes down, focusing on the bracelet. Only the bracelet. Swallowing down the lump in my throat, I jumped forward, enclosing the cool metal in my fist. I could sense my friends' bodies disgustingly close to me.
As I stood up, my eyes betrayed my brain, shooting a quick, unintentional glance in their direction.
The sight of Thayer's dead, dismembered body met my eyes first. His mouth stretched wide in a silenced scream, his eyes wide, blind and unseeing. I blinked, finally seeing Octavia. Her normally dark skin was now unnaturally pale, almost chalky.
The coppery smell suddenly became much stronger, sending me stumbling backwards as I tripped over my own feet. Tears welled up in my eyes, although I tried to blink them away.
Sucking in a shaky breath, I told myself that they'd be gone by tomorrow, that one of the Garbage Collectors would get rid of them.
And then I'd never have to think about them again.
I ran back inside, doing my best to seal up the town wall as I did so. Things would be back to normal in the morning, I tried to tell myself, even though I wasn't so sure.

"I found it," I said, as I pushed open the curtain to medbay. I held out my hand, the simple bracelet hanging from my fingers. She snatched it from me, nodding in thanks as she fastened it around her wrist.
"Am I good to go, doc?" she asked, cocking her head.
"Well," he started, "as long as you-" but she had already brushed past me, leaving nothing but a fluttering curtain in her wake.