Apocalyptia (Apocalyptia #1)

Chapter 7

Sticks and rocks were Crystal's greatest enemy. She hated them more than the limbs that cut and slapped her face. She hated them more than the looters that had harmed Paul, and she hated them more than the fact that she could no longer see where she was going, except for the random patches of moonlight that illuminated the leaf-covered paths they were taking. They were random, and they were usually filled with pointed sticks and jagged rocks, which dug into the soles of Crystal's feet every step she took. The weight of Paul didn't help, and Jason was more or less dragging his weight of Paul because he had to lead.

Crystal was tired. She was tired of walking, tired of carrying burdens — both Paul's and the burden of survival. She wanted to survive, that was no question, but it was so hard when she was so tired. But it wasn't much longer after that Jason let out a squeal of surprise. Crystal had come to identify Jason with a pig. He squealed far too much for her liking, and he seemed dirty. Crystal still wasn't sure how much she could actually trust him, if she could trust him at all. Regardless, she was just glad to finally have something break the silence.

"We've found it! I knew we'd find that little wood shed eventually!"

Little? From the way Jason had described it, Crystal had assumed the stash was huge, or at least trailer-sized. To hear the word little was more than disappointing. It also didn't help that in his excitement, Jason had completely let go of Paul and Crystal could scarcely hear the crunch of his chubby feet hitting the lighted leaf patches. She had never expected he could move so quickly, and his form, once just a pudgy outline, had disappeared into the darkness. She couldn't take the time to move after him, either, as Paul's full weight dragged her down to the ground.

She fell onto the ground with a much louder crunch, and she began to roll. Blinded, there was no way to tell which way she rolled or how far, but the sticks and rocks stabbing her sides were beyond painful. Eventually, Crystal slowed and stopped. Getting on all fours, Crystal hissed as she lifted her hand up. She couldn't see it, but she could feel the impression the rocks and sticks had left into the flesh of her palm. Her knees ached along with her hands, and she couldn't be sure, but she thought she had twisted her arm that had once held Paul. Paul. Panicked, she began to feel around the earth. She hadn't fallen very far, but how far had she rolled?

Paul hadn't made a noise since they had started into the woods, and she hadn't held onto him at all on the roll down from the hill. She had no way to find him with him being unconscious, and she wasn't sure where Jason had even gone or how far. She had been alone before, but that world had been different. Now she was alone in an alien world. A world that had ended and that had hurt Crystal in more ways than she could have ever imagined. Now she was alone, and she had no way of knowing how she would survive. Tears were just starting to form in the corners of her eyes when a groan broke the silence.

Crystal froze and focused on that groan, but she was only met with silence. She prayed it would happen again. The silence was deafening, and she couldn't stand a second more of it after hearing the human groan, and she wasn't disappointed. Especially when she heard actual words along with the groan.

"Crys ..." The voice was strained, but she recognized her nickname and that voice.

She estimated a general location and crawled towards it. There was no guarantee that she was heading toward the right spot, but she just kept coaxing. She repeated Paul's name over and over again, asking him to keep speaking and to keep talking. She was on her way to find him if he just kept on. He carried on for as long as he could. He groaned one more time, then the forest fell silent again, but he had gone on long enough. Crystal was just about to give up when her hand met the leathery arm of his jacket.

"Paul? Paul, are you alright?"

She could hear the sounds of leaves rustling and the leather of his jacket rubbing together.