Adventures In A Wasteland

Chapter 3

~LOLAS POV~

Day 2 of our trek into the wastelands and I am Not. Feeling. Good.

I woke up bleary eyed to a bright light coming from the hallway to the left of me. My door was flung open and the shadow of what looked like a personified boulder and stick were silhouetted in the doorframe. I blinked stupidly when they wouldn't come into focus and glanced vacantly around the room, before shoving my head into the pillow with a grumble.

"Morning, sunshine."

Reg and Skito. Of course.

My head was throbbing and heavy, and my eyelids were sticking together with humidity and fatigue. My hair felt greasy and limp, and my limbs felt brittle, like if I put any pressure on them my bones would snap into a million pieces.

Ungluing my eyelids, I blinked at the boys who were now kneeling beside me. Skito was sobering fast in concern as Reg gently placed a mammoth hand on my forehead.

"God," Reg whispered into the air. He turned to Skito and muttered, "Look after her a minute," before dashing out of room, skimming across the floor like a stone leaping on water.

"Where's he going?" I croaked, as Skito handed me a glass of cool water.

"Most likely reserving you a shower," Skito smirked. "He may be less intimidating than a snail, but he practically devotes his life to you, Lola. That and the fact that he's about 6 and a half feet tall. No one wants to get on the wrong side of Reg."

One ridiculously cold shower later, and what I can only call an indulgent breakfast (courtesy of Skito and Reg) we found ourselves in Gauss's office, staring anywhere but her threateningly blue eyes.

"So, what you're trying to tell me," she said, tapping her red snakeskin boots on the floor. "Is that a possibly game-changing mission has been compromised because of your inability to follow directions?"

I stared avidly downwards, suddenly finding my ragged shoelaces incredibly fascinating.

"No, ma'am," Skito said abruptly.

"No?"

"We're saying that we arrived later than anticipated, due to unforeseen circumstances," began Skito nervously. Did he just contradict Gauss? Does he have a death wish?

"If had we completed the mission, we wouldn't have been able to return last night, unwillingly forcing you to send out a search party and wasting valuable Elite time."

Gauss scrutinised him intently through half-moon glasses, eyes narrowed

"Well, if the raid isn't completed today, don't even think to expect a search party."

"Of course not, ma'am. The raid will be completed today. You have my word."

"I better have. The only reason this mission isn't being performed by Elite members is because they're all occupied and aren't even at base at all." She gazed at him again, resuming the foot-tapping. "Anyway, you'd better get going. And remember, this is your Last. Chance. Do not disappoint me."

***

One tedious journey through the sand and several torturous games of I-Spy later, and I was swinging my legs on the chrome countertop of the back room in the supermarket, as Reg wedged the door open with his gloved hands with a metallic squeak. We explored the store room, something we failed to do yesterday and greedily indulged ourselves with exotic sounding foods we had never even heard of, my personal favourites being avocadoes and champagne.

As I sipped something fizzy and clear through a plastic green bottle, not feeling the least bit of guilt, we taunted Gauss and her practices, especially her worship of the Elite and dislike of anyone shorter than her, and... well, Reg. (Though even with heeled boots on, she's only really at a level height with him.)

We cursed Gauss and toasted to her downfall, we bellowed with laughter and stuck our middle fingers towards the sky. Skito cried tears of laughter into my shoulder as Reg hit the ground with the palm of his hand and I gulped the air in between outbursts of violent giggling.

We meandered around, climbing on top of shelves and walking along the top teetering only to fall into Reg's arms. We read magazines from worlds away, on vintage home decor and baking, about expensive motorbikes and how to curl ribbon with kitchen scissors. We smirked into bottles of Coca Cola and grinned at our gluttony. For an hour, we lived like kings.

On an aimless walk down aisle 14 of the storage room, we encountered another door, unlike the one we entered in. This one was sleek and reflective, but heavy and thick. Without prompt, Reg extracted his crowbar and wedged it in the doorframe, and began to push. The door was heavy and reluctant to move, which just made Reg frustrated. After about a minute, there was a chalk-on-blackboard screech, and the door swung open.

Suddenly the laughter seemed to stop and echo around the room. An eerie chill fell around us, clinical and silent. There was a high-pitched ringing in my ear, and my hands began to sweat.

Reg walked in first, stooping under the doorway, and I walked in after with Skito close behind me. My heart was beating loudly, although I couldn't understand why.

What we had stepped into was a perfectly square room, almost completely symmetrical on either side. There was a polished oak wood desk, coated in a film of dust, with contrasted immensely to the metal chrome walls and low ceiling. There were filing cabinets pressed right up against the two back corners of the room, their contents spilling out of the drawers like someone had left in a hurry- yellowing sheets of paper with tiny black print striped across them. The desk was a mess, pens scattered everywhere and the same old yellow documents covering most of the surface, and even though the room was tiny, I had the unsettling feeling that I was being watched.

Subconsciously tiptoeing, I walked up to the desk, to see what had caught my eye when we first entered; a large, red leather-bound book flipped open with red ink scrawled around a chapter title. A post-it note was stuck underneath-

FOR JENNYS EYES ONLY!

PROTOCOL 003. WORST CASE SCENARIO. ISSUE PUBLIC MESSAGE. NO TIME.

I shivered, despite not understanding the words. There was something about this room, like how evident this persons panic was, and how devoid of furniture it was. There were no picture frames or posters- it was strangely abnormal. My heart picked up the pace, and I wanted to get out.

My eyes drifted back to the page across, and caught on the childish scribble of red around the title- "Protocol 003". Skimming the page, I felt the air catch in my lungs and my eyes widen in fear and confusion. My heart was beating madly in my throat like it was trying to escape, and my voice shook as I said unnaturally loudly, "Reg, Skito. Come here."

I felt them appear beside me and Skito and peer over my shoulder. Skito inhaled sharply and his white knuckled hand appeared on the desk, steadying himself. Reg gasped and looked at me with his eyebrows furrowed.

"Holy shit."

***

Hello!

Thank you so much for reading! Apologies for the late upload, I haven't been feeling great recently, will try to stay on top of work and hopefully post weekly- hope you guys are enjoying it!

Genuine question as I am honestly curious- who are your favourite characters, and who do you guys ship in the story? What do you think Protocol 003 was? Please please please let me know!

Don't forget to vote, follow, comment, add to reading lists and share, whatever you guys want to do (or don't. Tis up to you)
See you soon with chapter 4!

-jazzypumpkin xo