The Rift

Chapter Thirty-Two: Chimera

OCTOBER

SIX DAYS EARLIER

As the purple luminescence of dawn rises over the horizon, I climb out of the warm bed and step onto the cold floor in my bare feet. I stand up in only boxer shorts, then I take a breath of air and climb down to the ground and use my only hand to support my weight, and with my left arm bent behind my back, I lower my body then come back up.

Pushups are never easy with one hand, but I've trained myself to keep in shape. I've built myself up for the past few months, and I don't want to waste it all on eating chili or some other shit.

After nearly ten minutes, I climb back to my feet to prepare for the day.

I dress myself in a long-sleeved gray shirt and black pants with a pair of boots, and before heading out of my room I comb my hair a little and grab a dark green jacket that Gustavo let me have.

I walk down the long hallway of the old factory, hearing only the echo of my footsteps bounce off of the walls.

Today, I'm joining Haley and a few others on a supply run to get gasoline for our generators. The factory is only down to a few cans and we're desperately trying to make it last.

I make it to the armory, where Haley and three others gather up a few weapons.
"You get enough sleep?", Haley asks as she leans on the open door to the armory with her arms folded across her chest, wearing a blue button-down shirt with dark colored jeans. She cut her hair short a while back, stopping at the base of her shoulders.

"I always do", I answer, peering into the heavily stocked gun room.

The three other people emerge from the room, all carrying fully-automatics. One of them is Ashley, a red haired young woman who usually goes on supply runs for the settlement. A heavily-muscled and bald headed man walking behind her is a guardsman named Wayne, who is unintimidating as he is buff. The remaining man is Jones, an older African-American man who I've talked to several times before. He's a wise man, I'll admit that much.

Ashley adjusts her brown fishing vest with one hand and asks the group, "We ready?"

"Nah, Nathaniel has to get a gun. Go ahead, man", Jones says, ushering me into the armory while putting a clip of ammunition in the pocket of his gray cargo vest.

"We would have left by now if he woke up earlier. We don't got all day", Wayne complains to the group as I head inside.

"Hey, no one's complaining when you stink up the whole cafeteria with your sweat", Ashley shoots back in a slightly calmer tone than Wayne.

He sneers, "I gotta keep myself in shape somehow", then Wayne flexes his arms underneath a thick gray jacket.

I give a chuckle, looking around at all the artillery. Rifles, shotguns, and all sorts of handguns lay on wooden shelves. One particular revolver catches my eye. It's handle a battleship grey, and written across the silver barrel in crimson red is the word PHOENIX.

I'm not entirely sure what it signifies, but I ignore its meaning and pick up the handgun.

"Find anything good?", Jones asks from behind me, scratching his grey beard.

I turn around and show him the revolver in my hand. He scratches his grey beard and smiles, "Great choice. Listen, I know you were on your own for a while, you think you can handle going back out there?"

"Don't worry about me", I answer, turning my body sideways and aiming the revolver at nothing, "I can handle myself."

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