𝐏𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐋𝐮𝐜𝐤 | 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐎𝐟 𝐔𝐬

01. No Ear Nancy.

O N E
No Ear Nancy.

The bed I sleep on is fucking awful. It's got a spring that pokes through the mattress top, it's bound to give me tetanus at some point, it's horrendously lumpy and smells musty. I'm sure I'd be far better off just simply laying on the ground, but I'm stubborn, I traded a good knife for the mattress and I spent a few days, and broke my thumb making the frame; every time I get on the bed it's a game of 'will the bed collapse today or tomorrow?'

I roll the knife that is no doubt older than me between my fingers as I face the window and look outside, the dreary weather mixes between comforting me, but also trapping me inside the stuffy building.

Looking at the absolute mess of the buildings around the one I live in I can't help my mind wandering. I can't remember what the world was like before it all went to shit. I was alive, but I wasn't even truly there when society crumbled.

Since then, my life has bounced from one dumpster fire to the next, my current disaster? Pushing my luck with the Fireflies. I'm good at my job, I do what's asked, but I hate every second of it, and I don't do well in group work. The only reason I'm here is because I'm indebted to Marlene, I owe her my life so there isn't much I can do to change my predicament.

I throw the knife up and catch it repeatedly. I'm bored. Despite it pissing with rain I need to escape this suffocating building. The last shred of sanity I possess is hanging by a thread, I really can't jeopardise that.

Getting off the uncomfortable bed, the wooden frame creaking from my movement, attesting to my lack of carpentry skills, I snatch my coat from the hook I nailed to the back of the door. Carefully, looking down the hall for anyone who may try and make conversation, I exit out of the tiny room I sleep in and move down the corridor, careful not to step on the rotten away floorboard. Made that mistake once – never again. I get halfway down the stairs before there is the unmistakable sound of gunfire, the loud crashes shake the walls. "Fuck," I curse in a whisper, stopping dead in my tracks I turn and run back up where I came from. I get to the top and slide around the corner a little too fast, my feet almost slipping out from underneath me.

I'm a magnet for disasters.  A tip on how to locate me in a crowd: look for where the worst place to be is, I'll be right in the centre of there.

As soon as I get inside my room I drop to the floor, my knees making harsh contact with the floorboards, and snatch my backpack from where it was hidden underneath, the contents inside ready to go. The only thing I don't have packed sits on the milk crate, I put some plywood on top to create a bedside table, I grab that too, and stuff it in. Somehow I haven't lost it, I've lost just about everything else, but I keep that safe. Getting back up the gunfire dies down, slowly and cautiously, I walk back to the door, waiting for it to start back up again. But it doesn't.

Marlene may be the reason I'm alive, and I owe a lot to the Fireflies, but I'm not about to get shot to death for people I mostly don't like.

I got shot once and I really don't fancy a second go round.

The thought sends a chill down my spine. That day sucked balls.

I descend the stairs one by one, taking my time, my gun in hand. I see the bottom, bodies lay on the ground, some I recognise, some I don't. Deep red blood trails begin to roll patterns on the floor and crimson splatter paints the walls. I didn't think the gunfire would lead to this much fallout. Whoever was on the other side of that gun is nothing if not efficient.

My eyes find Marlene being helped up by Kim, she sees me and I give her a concerned look that asks if she's okay, she gives me a curt nod in return – I guess she's as okay as you can get after being shot.