Across the Deadzone

Chapter 22: Wystan

When I came to the next morning, the other side of the bed was cold. I couldn't even find Timber as I felt around blindly. There came the sounds of people packing and chatting around me, and I figured I should get up.
I peeked open my eyes, the weak light coming in from the warehouse windows blinding me. I was used to waking up in the pitch blackness of a cave.
"Sleeping Beauty awakens," Ophelia said from the end of the bed. I propped myself up to peer at her. She was ruffling through her bag, making sure everything was there. Timber sat loyally by her side, staring excitedly out at the other people.
I stretched out my limbs, pushing my hair out of my face. "Why didn't you wake me up?" I asked through a yawn.
She shrugged, scratching Timber between the ears before standing up and swinging her backpack around so that it rested on her shoulders. "You looked like you were having a good dream. Didn't wanna wake you up from it."
"Oh, um, thanks." At the moment, I couldn't remember if I'd been having a dream or not, but I had slept well, comfortably.
Ophelia licked her lips, her eyes darting up toward me before bringing her attention back to her bag. "There's an Uber that's going back towards Hemmington. You know... if you changed your mind about coming."
"Wait," I started, suspicion lacing my voice. "Were you gonna leave me behind?"
"No," she replied before I'd even finished my sentence. "Of course not."
My eyebrows furrowed, a short sigh forcing its way out of my mouth. "O, I'm here now, whether you like it or not. I'm not going back, unless you're with me."
Her jaw clenched and she avoided looking me in the eyes. "Fine." She turned her back on me and hopped up the stairs with Timber beside her, leaving me scrambling to pack up my things.

The sun beat down every exposed inch of us, baking us like potatoes in foil, and I thought that if I didn't have skin cancer from those first few days in the initial heat blast, I was well on my way now.
Timber trotted along beside me, her tongue flopping out of her mouth like a pink, fleshy slug.
"What do you think Stevie and Zilla are doing out here?" Ophelia asked me a few hours after we left the Safe Spot.
I pulled my hood down farther over my head, but it did as much good as wrapping myself in wet toilet paper would.
"Oh, so you're talking to me again?"
Even though she had her goggles pulled down, and I couldn't see her eyes, the way that my skin prickled told me that she was glaring.
I rolled my eyes at her, fixing my gaze on the dust-ball of a horizon in front of me. "Why don't you ask them?"
She didn't respond for a long moment, so I chanced a look in her direction. From what I could see of her face, it was stone-cold, focused on the couple walking a few paces ahead of us.
"They're not gonna bite," I assured her after a moment. I stifled a chuckle before adding, "Well, Zilla won't."
A sigh forced its way from her mouth, and she jogged a bit to catch up to our companions, leaving Timber and I in her wake.
I pricked my ears, wanting to hear their conversation. Ophelia popped the question- albeit a bit awkwardly- and both women hesitated to answer.
"Well," Zilla started, glancing at Stevie with an unreadable look in her eyes. "We were both part of a tribe. The High Cloaks."
"Stupid ass name for a stupid ass tribe," Stevie interrupted gruffly.
Zilla went on. "They were all... crazed. But, you know, at least they offered protection from the monsters."
Stevie let out a harsh laugh. "Except for that time twice a year when they would sacrifice lower members to the Rubble Creepers," she recalled lowly.
"That's why you left?" Ophelia asked curiously, her voice so soft I could barely hear her.
Zilla tugged on the ends of her hair with her free hand. When she finally answered, her words came out even quieter than Ophelia's. "When they found out that we were together," she gestured between herself and Stevie, "they weren't happy about it. They threatened to kill us."
"Homophobes never change," Stevie said bitterly. "Even at the end of the world."
Zilla nodded, glancing over at Stevie. "We're headed to the Haven. If it exists, it's our last chance to-"
"Stop!" Coatés called back to us, cutting her off. In front of me, the three women halted, surprised by his outburst. Timber and I jogged up to them. I peered over Ophelia's shoulder with my head cocked.
Coatés crouched low to the ground, eying the sand, apprehension clear from the way his shoulder blades pinched together.
"What is it?" Zilla asked, glancing around nervously. Stevie reached over, grabbing her hand.
"Footprints," Coatés muttered. "Fresh ones."
I swallowed down the lump in my throat. "Human ones?"
He nodded slowly before rounding on us, and although he tried to conceal it, anxiety flashed in his eyes. "Sometimes, humans can be the worst creatures to run into out here. Did any of you see anything?"
Simultaneously, and without answering, we all glanced out at the landscape around us, which was nothing but flat desert. There was nowhere a person could hide. Still, the hairs on the back of my neck stood up straight.
"Footprints this new..." he trailed off, shaking his head.
"We should be able to see them," Ophelia finished, stooping low to scratch Timber's head.
"Keep an eye out for any signs of life; even if it's just a scrap of clothing or an empty can of food. We might be coming up on a civilization pretty soon."
I frowned, wiping away the sweat that was- once again- beginning to pool on my forehead. "All the way out here?" I blurted.
"You'd be surprised what people endure to stay in power," Coatés said ominously, before rising to his full height- which wasn't much taller than his height when he'd been crouching. He brushed off his pants and said, "If we want to get to the next Safe Spot before it gets dark, we need to move like a horse's hoof."
Ophelia glanced up at me, her nose scrunched. As Coatés apologized that it wasn't quite as luxurious as last night's spot, she muttered, "I think the sun's finally overheating his brain."