Sober Is a Mask

The Stranger

Blake awoke and found the stranger stoking the fire again, but this time it was daylight outside. She noticed a rough blanket had been thrown over her, but when she tried to move it, her skin felt like it was on fire. She gasped as her shoulder sent jolts of pain through her arms and neck, she gritted her teeth until the pain faed, and looked over. Her companion was now standing in the doorway, scanning the ruins, his eyes never lingering in one place for long. The stranger diverted his attention to his rifle, pulling the bolt halfway to check his ammunition. The wind whistled. The destroyed house creaked and swayed. Smoke danced from the fire. Blake noticed the tension in his shoulders, and bit back a groan of pain as she reached for the handgun next to her. The stranger suddenly whipped around at the sound of her movement, his expression hidden by the respirators they wore. They stared at each other, his eyes searching hers for any hostile intent. Finding none, he returned to surveying the wasteland of a neighborhood. Blake sighed, released the hammer on the pistol, and promptly stuck it in her belt.

Her quiet companion wordlessly packed away anything that remained into his pack. He then stood up straight, gun never leaving his side, and offered her his unoccupied hand. She took it, and was rapidly brought to her feet. Almost slipping, she held on for a few moments until she regained her footing. Her shoulder was still in immense pain, but pain medicine would only serve to make her drowsy, she needed to be sober. The stranger backed away a few steps as she tested her balance by walking. Blake walked steadily to the doorway to observe their quiet surroundings.

The neighborhood sat on a flat, seemingly without so much as a bump, the perfect place for an ambush. Blake noticed the surprising amount of houses in shambles, fallen roofs, collapsed walls, shattered windows. She looked down the rows until she stopped. A few hundred yards away was just another pile if rubble, but this one had movement.

The stranger appeared next to her, and offered her the binoculars from his vest pouch. Blake's morbid curiosity got the best of her, and she lifted them carefully to her face.

For a few relieving moments, she thought they were people, but her relief vanished shortly. Grotesquely pale, horrifically malformed faces greeted her eyes through the binoculars. Crooked limbs, bent at unpredictable, unnatural angles. Their movement made them look alive, but all it took was another look at their nightmarish features to know, they were long dead. Husks of former people.

She could look no longer, and when she turned to her companion to return the binoculars, she noticed the somber look of his eyes. "The subway tunnel isn't far, you'll get better medical attention there and you can put this all behind you." He spoke softly but sternly, and she gave a nod, thinking of her comrades who died in the ambush. They started their way back, the stranger leading the way, but never going far.