Anarchy, Burning(ONC2022 Entry)

Part 6- Elijah

The boat jumps as they move up the Hudson. The waves grow more and more choppy the further north they go. Water sprays over Elijah and his family as they try to escape New York City.

To their left passes New Jersey, fires burn along the riverfront and one of those red claws, hellspurs, pulsate further inland. On their right is the island of Manhattan. Dozens of hellspurs reach towards the heavens as if the devil himself holds the city in the palm of his hands. Entire neighborhoods wallowed in darkness except for the foreboding strobe of crimson light.

Elijah is reminded of another vision, one of blood and pain. A man on a bridge is sodomized by beasts with inhuman appetites. A family seeks shelter where there is none. A hawk searches for Amy...

He looks at his family and prays the Lord gives them the strength to weather what is to come.

"Elijah, come over here," the goth punk woman shouts. "I need your help."

Elijah stares at the woman as the boat rises and falls. She'd threatened Amy, hijacked their boat, but she didn't leave them stranded. He doesn't trust her, but, judging from the chaos on land, she probably saved their lives. Her actions are what put them in danger in the first place, Elijah can't let himself forget that. Reluctantly he crab-walks over to the cabin.

She spares him a glance, but keeps most of her attention on the waters ahead. She steers as if trying to avoid the worst of the chop, but it feels like she's hitting all of it head on.

"Come take the wheel. I need a moment."

He approaches the helm and she gives him a wide berth. Clearly the feeling of mistrust is mutual. Elijah has only steered a boat a handful of times and never a cabin cruiser. He focuses on the wheel, watching the white-capped waves and the other boats scrambling to get away from... what exactly? What is happening?

It's the end of the world.

"You never asked my name, Elijah."

He doesn't look back or respond. He focuses on the waves. Rising. Crashing. Just like his life.

"Don't be like that. We're going to need each other, if we're going to survive this." The chop rocks the boat back and forth. "Fryga. Fryga Olsen. My friends call me Valkyrie... or they used to. Shit. I hope they got out of the city before the shit hit the fan. What about you, Elijah? You leave any people behind?"

"No," he answers between clenched teeth. "I'd never abandon anyone."

"Guess we have that in common."

He looks back then, choice words begging to spill out. Fryga's laying across a bench, using her leather jacket as a pillow. Her black Doc Martens look like something straight out of a Spice Girls photoshoot. Her skin is pale as if she has spent a lifetime avoiding direct sunlight, her arms suggest she's spent time in the gym. Elijah is pretty sure he outweighs her by almost a hundred pounds.

"Stop sizing me up," She says, bringing her knees up and flashing her red panties. "We need each other."

"I don't need you, Ms. Olsen."

"You need my boat."

"This is my boat."

"Relax, I'm fucking with you."

They lapse into silence. The only sound is the boat motor and the sound of the splashing water.

"You should probably have Amelia and Emily go below deck." She gestures toward the doorway beside him, leading down to a cozy sleeping area. "They're getting wet and the temperature is dropping."

"Let me worry about my family. You worry about yourself."

"Yeah. I tried that and ended up picking up stowaways."