Broken World

Chapter Twelve

Nightingale

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I grab the bag and weapons from between the rocks, and take it over to the grass that runs parallel with the river.  I pull everything out of it, and lay it all out in front of me.

Everything in it was soaked, but it all seems to be in good condition. I find a few spare pieces of clothing, some sanitary needs, food; that is no longer edible, half a bag of bullets; What. The. Hell.

What in the world is happening out there, that makes me have such weaponry, and the need for more space for bullets, than food and water.

But nothing in this bag shows who and what I am. I pick it up again, and do another check. That's when I hear it, a soft crinkle. It takes a few minutes, but I eventually find it hidden in the seam of the bag.

I pull it out and see that it is a photo. It has water stains on it, but I can make out that there are ten people in the photo, standing in front of a house, no, a mansion, the place is huge.

I study the photo, and make out that nine of them are male and one female. I think she is me, but it's hard to tell. I can see some of the male's faces, just barely, and they look beautiful.

If this is my family, then I wonder what happened to them.

I pick up the rifle and start to pull it apart and dry it all out. It's only when I have it laying on the grass, that I realise I did that with out a thought. It was done with such precision, that I wonder how many times I have had to do that.

Angel's comment about how pure my soul is comes to mind, and I have to wonder if I know how to use this, if I have had to use it, then how can my soul not be marked, scarred?

I shove the thought aside, and go for the sword, and the word Kanata comes to mind. That must be what it is. I clean it up as well, and set it aside with the rest of my drying possessions.

I stare down at all that I own, three quarters being weapons of destruction, and have to wonder what my life was like, and if I really want to remember.

I lie down next to it all, and let the midday sun wash over me. I pick up the photo and study it, hoping it would spark a memory, but all I get is feelings. They are so strong and powerful that it brings a wave of emotion to the surface, and the next thing I know is that I'm crying.

I don't understand these emotions, they are confusing me. There is an astounding amount of love, but there is also the drowning sense of sadness and loneliness.

What happened to them? To me?

I put down the picture and close my eyes, and let the sun take me in its warmth.

I most have fallen asleep because all I can feel is falling, and the bite of cold water hitting me like a slap to the face, and a bridge.

I fly up gasping for breath and look around me and scream.

All around me are people, no, dead people. There is so many that I can't see anything but them. I slowly stand with a hand raised to my chest, trying to slow my racing heart.

"Did you all have to stand so close? Almost gave me a frickin hear attack." I take another deep breath and look around at them all. "Ok. So what's going on? What's with all the starring?" I try and look over the heads of them all to see how many of them there actually were, but that was fruitless, so I gave up with a small hrummp, and crossed my arms.