Dementia (Romantically Apocalyptic Fanfiction)

Chapter 3 - On The Ocean

After several minutes of heart pounding torture, the rocket finally gave out.  My eyes were stuck wide open; I never once shut my eyes.

            “We’re not dead!”  Snippy shouted gratefully and climbed out of the sleigh.  Exhaling deeply, I felt sick.  Shaking, I crawled out of the sleigh, trying to catch my breath.  Everything…spinning…dizzy…blurry…

3 hours later: 

            “Oooh God,” I groaned, my head pounding.  Already, I was being bombarded with little heart-racing clips of glowing carcasses, rockets, and cake.  What the hell happened? 

As I sat up, I looked around at my surroundings.  I had been placed in what looked like cruise ship living quarters.  Nothing had been destroyed by the radioactive blast that wiped out practically 90% of the world and nothing seemed to be glowing which meant no radioactivity.  I guess this was part of the 10% still useable.

I sat up in bed and found my gas mask and goggles had been taken off as well as most of my jackets, which left me in only a long sleeve shirt and cargo capris.  My long brown hair was greasy and messy (I was in need of a shower) and I had to pee.  Finding the bathroom door connected to the bedroom, I found half of the bathroom had been blown apart.

            “Hmmm,” I sighed, deciding whether or not to use it.  You have to pee.  So use it, dammit.  I thought to myself.

After I finished peeing in the half-destroyed bathroom, I shut the door quickly and stuffed an unused blanket underneath the door crack to keep the cold and possible radiation out.

Wandering out into the hallway, I heard voices from door the corridor.  It wasn’t exactly toasty warm in here, but anything’s better than being in below freezing temperatures for over twelve hours straight.  As I wandered further down, I caught sight of a wide open door with dim light shining out.  Peeking just my eyes around, I saw the four guys, three without their gas masks, all scattered about the room, a dim lantern sitting on a pool table.

I stomped in and all heads swiveled in my direction.  “Who the hell undressed me?!”  I shouted, the thought just suddenly occurring and making my blood boil.

With only Captain still wearing his gear, the other three guys all pointed to one another.  I stared them down, my hands on my hips.

            “Ugh, it doesn’t matter,” I said and fell into the old recliner near the table.  I looked at all three of them without their gas masks on.

            “Here you go,” Snippy said and slid a half-charred ramen soup.

            “Thanks,” I said.  He had dark brown hair, an angular face, high cheek bones, ivory colored skin, and bright blue eyes.  “So…what’s your name?  I mean, Snippy can’t actually be your name,” I asked.

Staring down at the table, he smirked.  “No, it’s my last name.  It’s Charles, Charles Snippy,” he said.

“Charles…I like it,” I said.

“And Captain either calls me that or Sniper because my last name reminds him of a sniper gun.  That’s why I’m the sharp shooter,” he grabbed his rifle and held it up.

“Are you good?  Like, can you shoot a gun?”  I asked and leaned my elbows on the table.

    “I’m alright,” he sighed.  “What about you?  You must have a name.”

I stared out the surprisingly unbroken windows and took a sip of the broth from my soup.  “Kaitlyn, Kaity for short,” I told him.  He smiled.