Adventures In A Wasteland

Chapter 2

~SKITO'S POV~

I woke up to a heat that seeped into every crevice of my body. My eyelids were heavy and sticky and unwilling to open, and when they did they were hit with a blindingly pale light that forced me to bury my head into the pillow with a groan.

I pulled a mosquito off my lower arm with a wince, scowling sardonically at the irony. I hauled myself out of bed and waited in line half an hour for a shower that was too short for me and blissfully cold.

I was greeted by Lola and Reg in the hallway, and was immediately irked by Reg's attempts to annoy me. Lola, eager to keep the peace, slid her slightly muscular arm between mine, tensing when I threatened to move. "Don't you dare argue today," she whispered through gritted teeth. "Captain was talking of sending people off to do a separate raid today, and by my life it will be us."

"God, calm down," I mumbled. "It's one day!"

"I'm with Lola. If I don't have something to do fast, I think I may just implode." Added Reg.

We were hunched over and grimacing, inching along towards the food court until the Captain of our Sector strolled by. Instantly we perked, joining arms like carollers and smiling a smile that stretched across our weary faces. Reg curtseyed weakly under the glare of Captain, and I stifled a snigger.

Elma Gauss was the Captain of our Sector. She cut an impressive silhouette, thanks to her shin high black lace up boots and a muted red trench coat that she sported when going on raids, which she was obviously preparing to do, considering her getup. Her hair was black, curly and voluminous, and she had strong arches on her eyebrows, which tended to make her look intimidating regardless of her expression.

Our community was divided into five Sectors, 10-25 years old, 26-40, 41-55, 56-70 and the Elite. No one was really expected to live until 70, and even if they did, they were usually useless to us. Jobs were given to the Sectors based on the age- cooking and maintaining the camp tended to be a job given to the Oldest Sector, and raids were typically given to the youngest. The Elite was the most desirable position to be in- living in danger that gave you adrenaline rushes and given equipment that was tailored to you, a luxury we could only dream of. The best jobs were always, always, saved for the Elite.

When Gauss had sauntered by, our positions faltered, though Lola still clung to our shoulders, looking ill and tired. Her short, tight caramel curls were lank, and her tan skin looked dry. Her face was sallow and her cheekbones were cast in a patchy almost-grey shadow despite the white sun, making the rest of her face look sunken. The glimmer in her eyes had gone, and you could tell the mental fatigue of this lifestyle was affecting her as much as the physical.

The effects were gradual, over at least a few months, but the overbearing summer heat in this wasteland was evidently affecting her far more than Reg and I, although we were both beginning to feel woozy and tired, which was unlike us.

Suddenly Lola perked, plastering a too-much-teeth smile across her face and we clocked Gauss backtracking towards us. I knew how bad Lola wanted to get out, but she looked like she needed rest if anything. Despite this, Reg elbowed me and we arose beside her.

"You three." Murmured Gauss in her husky voice. "I have a job that I need doing, and you have been working pretty damn good recently. Just the supermarket a mile or two away. There's a storage room we've worked a way into- Reg, you're our muscle, Skito; you're the brain and ermm... Lola, isn't it?"

"Yes, ma'am." Said Lola, fading slightly.

"You can... keep them in order. Who knows what they'll get up to without you keeping them in check. Fancy a different job for today?"

"Yes ma'am. Thank you, ma'am." Lola said, smiling genuinely.

                                                                                                        ***

Two hours later and Reg is carrying Lola's bag with his arm around her shoulder. I can hear her coughing through her bandana and after worrying that she may be truly ill, I remember that she washes her hands after touching literally any other person, and I allow myself to relax.

We reach the supermarket at noon and the relief from the sultry sun is overwhelming. Lola droops onto the skeletally bare shelves and breathes heavily. Reg lifts her onto the counter, avoiding the tetanus-inducing spikes from where the till has been ripped off the table. Her head falls onto his shoulder and he holds her close as I hand her my flask. The water is warm, but she gulps it down greedily and hands it back with a sorry glance. I shake my head to dismiss it- she's really worrying me now, but I don't want to show it. I can't show it.

We quickly locate the storage room, following Gauss's directions. Reg rams his shoulder into the door like a half-assed battering ram, as Lola lolls wearily against the wall. I prise a hairpin out of her mess of hair and try to pick the lock when Reg's approach doesn't work, but it's been so long since I've stolen anything I can barely navigate the pin through the lock, and nothing clicks. I swear under my breath.

"How you holding out there, Lola?" Reg inquires, extracting a crowbar from his bag and wedging it between the door.

When she doesn't respond, I tense and begin to walk over as she mutters a reply.

"Hmm?" asks Reg, tightening his grip on the crowbar before pushing it outwards. There's a metallic groan from the door as he strains.

"Fine." Says Lola, slightly clearer. She motions towards me and I attempt to regain my careless strut, but it's hard when I realise how concerned for her I am. She rests her head on my shoulder and I put my arm around hers. Her breathing slows and almost halts before I realise that she's fallen asleep. She awakes after 10 seconds to a sudden rusty crash as the door swings open and hits the wall with a shudder that would've sent birds flying had there been any left. We're greeted with a pungent smell of metal and mould as the room before us reveals a huge stockpile of cans and packets and the like.

Reg's immediate reaction is to find whatever is the most edible source of food in the cavernous room. He reappears seconds later tearing the lid off a can and presenting it to Lola, who folds the lid into a spoon and shovels it into her mouth. Its devoured in less than a minute and she looks up with slightly brighter eyes and a grateful smile.

"Thank you" she says, louder and crisper than before.

"No worries, sunshine." Smiles Reg genuinely, rubbing the back of her head.

"This was ok. The three of us." I say quietly, realising how alien it sounds. I clear my throat and speak louder. "Listen up, assholes. I have a plan."

Lola flicks me on the forehead at the mention of the word 'assholes'. I wince and look at her patronisingly, to which she pulls a face at. I relax at the sight of her brighter self and continue talking.

"Let's tell Gauss that we nearly got in but we had to go back, and she'll send us in to try again tomorrow. Better than being trapped outside all bloody day long."

"The girls too much for you, eh MoSko?" Reg teases. "The attention pissing you off a bit now?"

Its my turn to flick him in the forehead and grin as Lola nods energetically.

"Alrighty then. Fingers crossed." Reg says, lifting Lola off the table. She clings to his neck and laughs, refusing to let go until I grab onto her feet. She squeals and collapses in a heap between us and I see Reg's shoulders fall as he heaves and smiles in relief at Lola's happiness. The three of us are bent double in breathless laughter, Lola occasionally squealing, Reg shaking with high pitched giggles and I don't make a sound except clutch my stomach and feel my face go red, taking breaths whenever I stop laughing.

These guys. Someday they'll be the death of me.