Glade

Pomegranates

The world ended.

Get it over it.

That was how Glade approached most of her unfixable problems (of which she had many). The simplest answer, of course, was just to "get over it." There was no point in languishing in sorrow or anger. There was only point in forgetting and moving on.

So the world ended. And Glade, unlike the rest of humanity, was determined to be as apathetic about it as possible. And in all honesty, the world ending was probably the best thing that could have happened to her.

Glade preferred, above most things, to be alone. Now the global population was just 20% of what it used to be, so she spent most of her time not running into another soul. Glade was also a bit of a survivalist. Before the end of the world, she enjoyed typical hobbies, such as trying to see how long she could live off of dirty river water and attempting to make her own power out of the pomegranates her mom bought every week at the grocery store.

Her mom loved pomegranates.

So really, honestly, the world ending was a blessing in disguise. And although Glade didn't care much for blessings or miracles or any other gifts from beings greater than her, she did find herself grateful from time to time that this new world seemed to be built for her.

In summary, then, Glade felt, on average, two different feelings; apathy and gratefulness. Oh, and guilt, but she preferred to pretend that emotion did not exist.

But, in contrast to her usual emotional range, today she was feeling angry. Not because her entire bunker had been stripped of every resource, or because there was a dead man she didn't know laying at the entrance, or because the three helicopters parked in the field beside her home had government insignias on them.

No, Glade was angry because, much to her dismay, the hair tie holding her auburn side braid in place had fallen out and gone missing. It should be known that that was her last one.

The rest, of course, fell under the category of "everyday occurrences."

"Glade Parrson? We need you to come with us."

Glade sighed and shook her hair with her fingers, watching as the braid untangled. She barely took notice of the group of men approaching her from the inside of her bunker, all holding military grade assault rifles and machine guns. Each wore a standard black uniform, and they all had exactly the same haircut.

To Glade, of course, other people's hair was among her lesser concerns.

"What do you want?" She grumbled, ignoring the raspiness of her own voice. She often thought she sounded like an old woman, even though she was barely an adult.

"We need you to come with us," the head soldier repeated. He was a bit taller than the others and had three shiny badges pinned on his chest.

Glade found herself very quickly annoyed (another uncommon emotion for the day). "Well I need access to running water, but we can't all get what we want, can we?" She snapped.

The soldier held up his gun and pointed it at her, smirking. "Come with us. Now."

Glade sighed, reached into her pocket, and pulled out a packet of gum. "You want one?" She asked, take a piece out. It was stale beyond measure—which wasn't surprising, seeing as it was probably four years old—but as she popped the piece into her mouth, she could still taste an echo of the minty flavoring.

"I said now!" The head soldier barked.

Glade crossed her arms and stared at him. Her face was expressionless, and she felt better as apathy sunk into her body. The gum was what made things better. As long as she had gum, she could tackle losing her last hair tie.

The soldier fired. Glade sighed as she looked down at her leg and saw a hole going clean through it. Frustration settled over her once more. "Hey, you just ruined my new jeans! You know how hard it is to find a pair of good Levi's these days?" She grumbled, casually moving forward towards the soldiers.

The head soldier's eyes widened, and he shot again. This time the bullet went through Glade's forehead, and this time, without ruined fabric to cover it up, he could see her flesh instantly mesh back together.

The soldier knew in that instant, as he watched the short, angry girl approach him, that he was (for lack of a better term) fucked.

Absolutely fucked.

It took only one light punch from Glade to create a severe enough head trauma. He died almost instantly.

Glade looked apathetically up at the rest of the men. "Can you leave now?" she muttered, "I'm tired of this."

After checking the vitals of their fallen leader, the soldiers picked up his lifeless body and headed back to their helicopters without a word. Glade didn't even bother to watch them take off; she simply stepped over the body lying in the doorway and started to climb the ladder down into her bunker, to see if there was anything left worth salvaging.

Maybe, if she was lucky, she'd find another goddamn hair tie.

But before she could descend, the body in front her gave out a low groan. Glade was wrong; the man was alive.

Barely.

She sighed. Can't I catch a break today? 

Author's Note:

Thank you so much for reading! Don't forget to vote and comment! Any suggestions? How do you feel about Glade so far?

Love you guys,

Eden