WHEN THE DARKNESS COMES I NICK CLARK

Cynics Versus Dreamers

Cynics Versus Dreamers

Downstairs, Lourdes could hear Madison and Travis arguing again, the sound making her wince. As she walked over to the vanity, she tugged down the sleeves of her plain grey long sleeved top, still feeling alarmingly exposed even though she'd layered it with an oversized vintage Jon Bon Jovi T-shirt. Turning to the mirror, she wiped her sweating palms on the front of her faded baggy jeans, checking her reflection one last time, not liking what she saw.

Her black hair was scraped back into a tight bun, emphasizing her strained face with dark circles etched under her eyes. It was a face she now almost didn't recognize. Smoothing back some stray tendrils with a shaking hand, she then looked away, the thought of facing the day ahead almost overwhelming. All these hours she had spent theorising with Tobias about the advent of an apocalypse had just been two stupid teenagers talking shop. She had been naïve to believe that because she knew, somehow she would be more prepared for the prospect, even as it terrified her. All she knew now was that she had been a fool, and that the living were more dangerous than the dead, her ripped t-shirt now lying in the trash testament to what they were capable of.

Exhaling sharply, Lourdes then went to sit down on the edge of her bed. By her feet was her old dance bag packed with some clean clothes, underwear and a surplus of essential toiletries. She'd already mentally mapped out what she was bringing for Timmy, determined in her decision he was coming with them. What her father and Madison would say about it, she didn't know and she didn't care. She had also written a note to Tobias that she would pin to the front door before they left in case he came looking for her.

"Lo!"

Pulling a face at her father's imperious tone, Lourdes got up, not sparing her room another glance, as if she had already left. She reluctantly made her way down to the kitchen, the bright sunlight filtering through the lacy white curtains, making everything look innocently innocuous. Her stepmother was now mercifully nowhere to be seen, something Lourdes was grateful for, the memory of last night still red raw, making it hard for her to face Madison just yet.

At the sound of her footsteps, Travis turned around, a yellow bandana tied around his face. He had red dust on his hands and forearms, as well as on his trousers. "Lourdes," he said tiredly, pulling the bandana down to his chin, "how are you holding up?"

"Like one of your DIY projects," Lourdes said with great difficulty, "badly."

Travis's concerned gaze flickered over her. "Yeah, dumb question, huh?" he then said, going over to the sink, signalling the subject was closed. But Lourdes let it go, shutting it out as he shut it down, father like daughter.

"You need me to do something or what?" Lourdes asked abruptly as Travis rinsed his hands, the sound of the running water suddenly very loud, disorientating her.

"First, take a sandwich," Travis said, shaking his hands dry, "in fact, take two."

"What?"

"Take a seat," Travis reiterated as he came over, dropping a kiss on her dark head, "and chow down a couple of sandwiches. Maddie made enough to feed a small army. You need to keep your strength up, kid."

Rolling her eyes, Lourdes threw herself down onto one of the rattan chairs, making it creak ominously underneath her. For a moment, she hesitated, but Travis's tone brooked no opposition, so she helped herself to one of Madison's famous handmade Pimento Cheese sandwiches. To her surprise, she realise she was ravenous. "Stress cooking, huh?" she said thickly, taking another bite.

"Hell yeah," Travis said vehemently, "she nearly bust a gasket over the chipotle peppers." As Lourdes finished her first sandwich, her hand greedily grabbing a second, Travis looked out of the window, his craggy face suddenly weary. "You all packed?" he said tiredly, making her glance up.