DESTINY

Chapter 3

I sit in my chair, unable to do anything but look at him. Chris doesn't seem to care, as he just takes another few bites of his sandwich.

Suddenly my mouth is as dry as a desert and my tongue feels like sandpaper.

"Wha... What did you say?", I manage to stutter out, but I don't think my voice was loud or strong enough for Chris to hear me over his loud munching noises.

I straighten up, my jaw's grinding and the pressure I'm feeling on my mandibular joint somehow soothes me.

"What did you say? About the Fireflies and Santa Barbara?", I furrow my eyebrows at him and start biting on my lower lip, but Chris doesn't seem to care about me, he's just too focused on this damn sandwich.

This stupid sandwich. I've been hungry before too, but I was never unable to answer a simple question like that.

Munch, munch, much.

Small crumbs fall out of his mouth. He's probably missing some teeth.

Munch, munch, munch.

Suddenly my cheeks start burning like a bush fire in Arizona and my muscles tense.

Munch, munch, munch.

I can't take it anymore and remove my switchblade from the wood of my armrest. Chris doesn't even stand a chance as I'm standing behind him with a single jump, the blade of my knife dangerously close to his carotid artery.

I take a tuft of Chris' hair in my other hand, holding his head up, so his bare throat is even more exposed.

He seems to be so shocked, that he dropped his beloved sandwich and kicks his glass of water, spilling the fluid all over the floor and shattering the glass.

"Hey, is everything okay in there?", Lori asks from the hallway.

It takes everything for me to put on a smile and a halfway friendly tone as I answer: "Yeah, everything's fine, Chris just dropped his glass."

Dull footsteps fill the room we're standing in. Lori went away.

I bend forward, my lips just inches away from his ears. As I'm standing this close to him, his awful odour is even worse than from where I was before. "One single scream or any other sign of you being in danger, even a quiet squeak, means you're dead, can you hear me now?!"

Chris manages to nod his head a little, which isn't very much, considering the blade of my knife is almost cutting his throat.

I let go of his hair and walk back to my chair, but still holding my switchblade in my hand as a warning. Chris touches the skin on his throat. His fingers get covered in a dark red color. Seems like I made a small cut. For a short second the urge to apologize occurs me, but I push the thought in the back of my head.

"Tell me what you know about the Fireflies", I stare in his eyes. He is terrified of me. I don't want to be like this to him. Deep down I know he's just a lost soul, looking for some peace and a safe place to spend the nights. But I'm looking for the same.

Chris gulps down saliva that isn't there. His breath is getting heavier and it's like I can see how his heart wants to jump out of his chest.

"They're in Santa Barbara", he starts.

I start twisting the knife in my hand, putting more pressure on him.

"Some years ago, somebody wiped out our headquarter. It was the St. Mary's Hospital. I just joined the formation; I was a total newbie, but they treated me like a family member. They wanted to create a vaccine, or at least they told everybody that this was their plan. I don't know what exactly happened back then, I was out, looking for resources", Chris shuts his eyes while sucking in some air. The memory seems to cause him emotional pain.

I want to reassure him, tell him that I'm sorry for him. But what am I supposed to say, when I exactly know who it was, that killed all of his friends, all he had left. And it's even worse to know, why it happened.

His eyes flutter open and they're watery and red and swollen. They look exhausted and sad.

After a few seconds he starts speaking again: "Most of them where dead when I came back. Only some women and that doctor's kid survived. They stole nothing, we still had almost all of our stuff, but they stole our people, our community. Most of the survivors turned their back on the Fireflies. Maybe they were too scared of the ruins they had left us and what it would cost to build it up again. Only a few stayed together and still called themselves Fireflies. I was one of them. We looked for another safe place, a headquarter where we could start all over again. We ended up in Santa Barbara, there is a building with a dome . But as time went by and as more and more people joined our formation again... The aims of the Fireflies changed. That wasn't the formation I once joined and I didn't want to be a part of it anymore."

My sight lands on my right arm and the tattoo that covers my scars so poorly.

Chris isn't a threat to me, he's a broken man, at the end of his tether. I put my switchblade away.

"What are they doing in Santa Barbara?", I ask him.

He tries to position himself in his chair, but doesn't seem to find a comfortable way to sit.

"They are still trying to find a vaccine at every cost. But-"

That's all I needed to hear. I stand up from my chair and wipe the sweat off of my forehead. It's only now I realize how much I was sweating the whole time. My clothes are dripping wet.

I head over to the door and without taking another look at Chris, I tell him over my shoulder: "You can stay, I'll tell Lori you're alright."

The door falls shut with a bang behind me. Lori walks in my direction, giving me a questioning look.

"So, what's up with him", her breath stinks like the bad liquor Tommy drinks every now and then. Seems like she took a gulp from her not so secret-secret stash behind the counter.

I try to collect myself, sorting my thoughts before answering: "Yeah, he is a good man. Lost his kid on his way here and wants to live. He is groggy, meaning he will need some time to heal and to build up enough strength to work, but he is okay."

Lori makes a quick note in her book and nods. "Great, thanks for handling this. Your next job for today is patrolling the hotel route in 20 minutes."

I let out a sigh. Not this goddamn route.

"And who is the lucky person to go out with me on that horrible trip?"

She turns a page in her book: "Well that would be Joel."