The Survivors

Chapter 2

I just recently learned you can swear in PG-13! I will have fun with this power. Also, if you have anyone to cast as Avery, Maeve, or Cole, let me know. I already know who Braden and Harrison will be. Enjoy!

It wasn't until weeks later that I ran into Harrison again. I was at the river, cleaning a wound on my forearm I'd gotten from tripping. I was so suprised since my foot-eye coordination is usually pretty good. Anyways, I'd heard him snapping branches and I couldn't tell if it was Cole, Braden, or Harrison until I saw Harrison's dark hair come into view. 

"Hey there, stranger," I said, dabbing at my arm with river water, trying not to wince at the pain.

His expression changed when he saw the cut. "Oh my God, Maeve, what happened?!" He ran to my side and inspected the deep slice.

"I tripped and cut my arm on a rock," I said, blushing.

"Shit, Maeve, does this not hurt?" he pulled a small tube from his bag and pressed some of the clear liquid from it on my arm. I gasped at the sting, but it immediately cooled.

He wrapped it in gauze. "C'mon." He lifted me up.

 As we walked back to my house in silence, I picked at the split ends of my hair. 

"How old are you?" he asked, breaking the silence.

"Seventeen. You?"

He breathed through his nose, hard. "I'm nineteen. And I thought you were younger, because..." he trailed off. I knew what he was going to say.

"You've spent a while in the woods."

"M-hmm. I like it here." He leans over to tie his shoe. His shirt rides up, revealing a tattoo on his hip, reading "9-15-89, Set Free".

"What happened September fifteenth?" I asked.

He looked up sharply, then at his hip. He jerked his shirt down and stood up. "It's the day I ran from my parents."

My brow furrowed. " 'Set Free'? Why were you set free?"

He threw his arms up, sweeping across the woods. "Look at this... it's... Divine Intervention. Can't find this kind of peace anywhere else. In the cities, it's all cars and people and bots but here, it's quiet, tame, united. I love it."

We were home. Well, my home, but he was here too.

I waved good-bye to him, but he'd already turned around and left. I quickly ran inside before I could look any more stupid.

The second I opened the door, a spray of fine white powder hit my face. Avery, pale, stood frozen, a bat in her hand and a smashed vase on the floor. Safety goggles rested on her nose.

"Well it's nice to see some amount of safety in this room," I said, my eyebrows raised.

"I'm sorry, Cole ate the berries I found in the woods, y'know, the ones that taste like watermelon mixed with strawberry? Well Braden said I couldn't smash his face in with my bat so I got this vase from the attic."

"I don't care. Just clean it up and I'll pretend this didn't happen." 

Avery pulled the glasses off her face, tearing out some strands of cherry hair in the process. "What the hell is that?" she asked, pointing at my gauzed arm.

"I tripped," I say vaguely.

Her eyes narrowed. "You don't have any gauze."

"Harrison did." She raised an eyebrow suspiciously. "Oh, you don't trust him either?"

She dropped the bat, making a hollow clang on the wooden floor. "Of course I don't! We live in the year 2093, the 'Year of Reconstruction', when we both know that's a load of bull," she said, using air quotes.

"So?"

"So, we also both know the Gov has more spies than a blonde has hairs." She picked up chunks of the pearl-white vase and tossed them into the trash.

"Whatever," I said. "Why didn't you do this outside?"

Avery laughed. "Hey, when I'm pissed, nothing stops me."

The next day, with the vase mess cleaned, my arm got worse. I didn't want any fingers pointed at Harrison, so I told no one. My arm hurt like a bitch, but I ignored it for as long as I could.

"As long as I could" happened to last three days, when I was walking out of the kitchen and I bumped my arm on the countertop. I screamed. Even though a scab had appeared over the wound, the pain remained.

Braden gasped, just now realizing the cut. "What the fuck, Maeve?!"

I started crying for some reason. I never cry. Not when my brother died, but for some reason now.

His face softened. "Maeve," he said firmly, but carefully. "When did this happen?"

"A few days ago. I guess. I tripped and my arm hit a rock and it cut open. I'm sorry."

Braden pulled me ino a hug. "Don't be sorry. But you don't have any gauze. Where did you get it?"

I sniffed, afraid I'd had to reveal the truth. "Harrison," I said softly.

He groaned. "What did I tell you?!"

"Don't jump to conclusions!" 

He left the room before a futher arguement could be carried out.