Earth has been turned into a dangerous wasteland by a mysterious event, called The Impact. Monsters roam the contaminated forests. The few survivors hide behind the high, concrete walls of the shelters.
There is only one man, unwilling to give up h...
I am woken up again, by the movement this time. I am being carried in someone's strong arms. My eyes are burning and itching. It is not pleasant at all. I don't mind it since I can see blurry images now instead of complete darkness. I still can't distinguish anything specific, but at least there is light.
"I flushed your eyes with irrigating solution," I hear Deon's voice close to my ear. "The retinal condition turned out to be better than I thought. They will recover completely, but I'll have to apply antiseptic drops and painkillers for a few days and it's a good idea to wear a bandage during the course of treatment."
"Alright," I nod. "I know the house. I don't need to see to be able to move around. It's not a problem. I always travel at night anyway and avoid using my flashlight. I'm used to finding my way in the dark."
"Honestly, I'm not sure whether to admire you for being so brave or pity you for being so stupid," Deon sighs. "You shouldn't have taken suppressants. They make people absolutely reckless. You could've burned to ashes in that fire."
"The SUPs can smell fear," I retort. "I had no chance without the pills."
"What SUPs?" he laughs softly. "Do you still insist you saw something that is totally impossible? There are neither SUPs nor ORDs around, just a few normal animals – rabbits, squirrels, foxes. How do you think I would've survived here for years if this was monsters' territory?"
"I saw a dragon," I stubbornly state.
"You saw nothing," Dion keeps chuckling. "Overheating and pain made you imagine things. Haven't you heard of hallucinations? The forest is drier than cinder. Wildfires start all the time. You were at the wrong place in the wrong time. That's all... Now, breathe. This might be a little shocking."
I hiss when my body is lowered into a bathtub of cold, milky white liquid.
"It's ok," he pats my hand. "You'll get used to the temperature in few minutes. Silver sulfadiazine and some other stuff. Your back is severely burnt, perhaps because you were leaning on that red-hot rock. The rest of your body is better."
I wait for a while until my hectic breathing calms down and stutter, "W-what w-were you d-d-oing there?"
"You'll see soon," he answers. "Grilled meat. Those wildfires spread so fast that animals fail to escape. You just go and collect your food for several weeks ahead. Much easier than hunting. You don't even have to cook."
"Whoa," I giggle, finally feeling more comfortable in my freezing cold, healing basin. "Clever... but dangerous. You could've gotten hurt too."
"Yeah, I know, but I'm pretty good at that," he says proudly. Then his voice becomes serious. "Weren't you settled in a protected area after The Impact? Why didn't you stay in the assigned shelter? Sorry, but I looked through your belongings. Wanted to see if you were on some kind of medications, if you had allergies and so on. Every single item has a government seal. Why did you leave? Those places are the safest you can find. People stay there if they want to remain alive. You can't just wander across the wild lands."
"I wanted to come home," I mutter, realizing how stupid it all was. I would've never reached the house if it wasn't for him. "Shelters are not for me. They make me feel like a prisoner."
"I see," he says thoughtfully. "How long did you stay there before you left?"
"A year at the first one, right after The Impact," I answer. "Then I stole a motorbike. I preferred to travel. Unfortunately, I found out the hard way that engine vibrations attract ORDs too quickly. I stopped at another shelter after some time and one more over the years, mostly because of school and training. You have to know how to handle things. But I didn't stick around for long, just to learn what I needed."
"What?" he bellows. "Are you saying you've been roaming the wasteland all alone since you were eleven? You must be in your thirties, right? That makes it twenty years! How did you survive?... Wow!... That's too crazy!"
"Yeah," I grin. "I am that ingenious. I fight my own battles."
"You are out of your mind," he whispers in disbelief.
I stare in his voice's direction, but see no face, no figure, nothing, only blur. Still, I am convinced he is gazing back at me. I can feel his eyes studying my features.
"In fact, you're the most courageous person I've ever met," he finally utters quietly. "I should be thankful. The loneliness was starting to get to me. It's not a good thing... Welcome home, Chris!"
"Thank you," I smile. I know he is smiling back.
I have questions too, many questions, but I have neither the strength, nor the desire to ask them now. The comfortable silence settles between us, as if we are old friends who do not need many words to understand each other. The feeling is new and consoling. I stay quiet and hope it lasts as long as possible, but reality kicks in and my stomach rumbles, ruining the moment.
"When did you last eat?" Deon asks. I hear some shuffling and then feel his hands carefully slipping behind my knees and under my arms. "I'll pick you up and put you on a chair, so that I can tuck you in a towel. Can you hold on to me, please? You're as light as a feather, but I want to make sure I won't drop you."
"A day or two ago. I don't really remember," I answer. Food has never been a priority. Water and finding a hiding place were much more important. I slowly trace his chest until my arms wrap around his neck. He doesn't seem to mind that I get him all wet, but I still mutter, "Sorry!"
Deon smells good. I recognize vanilla and bergamot. I remember all those scents. They remind me of mom's shower gel and dad's perfume. It's pure luxury to smell like that these days. He is also impressively strong and very agile. I am entranced by the movements of his muscles while he scoops me up and carries me like it's nothing. My arms tighten around him. I've never been embraced by anyone as an adult. I've never even been this close to another person. My heart skips a beat at the realization. I was so lonely all these years, desperately denying the end of my world. I wasn't running away from the safety of the shelters. I was trying to prove like a stubborn child that it's not over yet and all can be like before. But it can't. I'll have to accept the truth and grow up. The house is no more my home and I need this kindness, offered by a stranger. Tears roll down my cheeks and I am not even trying to stop them. It's over. I was eleven and I saw the end of the world. The past can't be brought back.
"Hey, are you ok?" Deon asks. "I know you're in pain and you must be terribly afraid, but you can trust me. Everything will be fine, Chris. I promise. You will stay here with me. It's your home after all."
"My home is gone," I sob. "I have nothing. I am no one. I lost everything."
"Then you'll start all over again," he mumbles. I feel a soft fabric envelop me and his warm lips press against my forehead. "We will."
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