The A-Game (new version)

Chapter 17.

"So tell me how you got a hold of a police badge," Thornton said. He was camped along side Myrtle, a woman who he had just met, upon being chased by the same horde of zombies into an old warehouse. He introduced himself as Matthew Thornton, and was immediately called by his last name by the girl. Thornton liked it. Not many did that. The girl herself was quite interesting. She wore a white eye patch, and kept it hidden as best she could by her faded brown hair. She looked like she could be in her early twenties, with eyes so cold that they could only be the eyes of someone who had been through a lot of pain in the past. Hanging from her chest was a police badge, but Thornton was smart enough to know it wasn't hers. If you looked at it close enough, small flecks of blood speckled its surface, and she didn't seem the authority type. What is it she called those creatures? Wendigoes? Myrtle picked up another one of the red packets and stuck a pin through it. It made another satisfying crinkle as the pin passed through its packaging.

"Found a dead guy laying on the street. He had a bite on his wrist and he was bound to become one of the wendigoes soon, but I felt a flash of daring and thought that it might earn some respect later, so I took it. I now consider it my... badge of honor."

"Indeed it might, but all that badge will get you is people thinking you have an advantage in shooting. No one will respect authority anymore when it's three days into an apocalypse."

"True," Myrtle grabbed another one of the red packages from the pile to stick a pin through it once more. Thornton had quite a few questions for this woman: why she called the zombies out there, wendigoes, and why she seemed to have a strange obsession with condoms. She had been in the pharmacy a store over when he found her, looting as many packages of condoms she could get her hands on. She seemed to have more than just sex in mind when she grabbed these condoms and stuffed them in her bag. Her expression was determined. Beautiful in a way. Thornton would've killed to capture the look she had on camera, with the way the light from the outside reflected off them. It intrigued him, and it's what propelled him to stay with her as she dashed into the warehouse after an unexpected attack. Now, at her feet, what must've been at least fifty condoms, still carefully wrapped, had been viciously punctured by the old pin she had clenched in her hand. She didn't pause as she grabbed the next one from the box, a box practically clawed open. There was no slight of hand or hesitation. She brought her finger through one side of the package, and the small, sharp spear of metal poked out from the other side, almost perfectly in the middle.

"Why the condoms?" Thornton asked. Myrtle sighed, and a breath of wind escaped her lips. They were beautiful lips: full, chapped, and tilted permanently downward. They were parted as the air escaped from them, loosening a stray strand of hair from her forehead and into the air. Something about the way she carried herself after he asked it told him that it was personal somehow, but all the same, the woman with her fortified past opened her walls a little and told Thornton her story.

"The divorce papers weren't signed when everything happened, so I'm still technically married. My full name is Myrtle Strepp. My last name used to be Williams. I kind of wish the world would've ended when I had my maiden name back-" Myrtle sighed again and let the condom and pin in her hands slip to the floor. Rubbing her head, her past reflected in her eyes, pained and angry. Thunderclouds crashed and flashed with lightning in the neatly locked up brown eyes. "-That son of a bitch spent the eleven months of our engagement convincing me to take his name, right? I didn't want to take it. I wanted to stay Williams, but he convinced me, said it would be less confusing for our children." Sucking in a deep breath of wind, Myrtle continued to savagely puncture the condoms, with an air of ferocity she had adopted from reliving her tale. "-Seven months into our marriage, we find out that I am incapable of having kids. He acts all nice and supportive, and we work at getting an adoption approved. This is a pretty long process. We were dealing personally with a teenage girl who had good morals. She made a simple mistake, but still wanted the kid to be in a good, safe home, and she still wanted to be able to visit her kid. We were good with it. All it was now, was waiting for her pregnancy to be done with. A month later, I find out my husband is having a baby with my best friend. I kept it quiet that I knew, hoping things would turn out. I was such a naïve bitch back then. It wasn't even a week later that he slapped the divorce papers in front of my face. He comes from a huge family of lawyers and crap. I lost everything, and the mother didn't want to hand her baby over to a single mom. I was never able to be a Mother, and I lost my husband and best friend. I lost everything all because I can't f**king procreate, and then there's these things-," she indicated to the condoms. "that are made specifically for people who can have kids and choose not to. I don't get it. Not after everything. Now with the wendigoes running around, there's nothing else to do with my life but sit around and wait to die, so I figured, why not fulfill my dream of completely eradicating-," she kicked the pile of punctured condoms with her foot, scattering from across the floor. "-them like I've always wanted to."

Thornton looked into the eyes of this girl, seeing so much pain and wild anger swirling around her features that he could understand why she kept them locked up. If anyone saw her on the street with the look on the face that she had on now, they would think she was crazy. Myrtle returned to her project like nothing happened, and they never talked about her past afterwards, as, over the days, the pile of punctured condoms grew.