Crow's Call

Chapter 5- A New City, An Old Partner

   It didn't take very long for Clive to come back around. Albi didn't notice at first until there a sharp jab in his side. The first thing Clive had done was punch him. Albi could tell this wasn't a mean punch, Clive was only trying to say "that hurt" without actually saying it out loud. Albi apologized, mentioning that it was necessary to save him. Clive was flabbergasted at this point. Now this stranger he'd only known for a couple days had saved his life, and somehow managed to do that without removing his entire leg in the process. There was a new feeling mixed in with his confusion and curiosity. For the first time in a very long time, Clive felt safe. Not much, not entirely, but still a little bit safer with Albi.
   To Albi's surprise, Clive never once attempted to move away from his grip after he'd woken up. He just laid there with no protest, completely comfortable. Albi felt strange, but a good strange. A strange as though a butterfly had landed on his nose, and he was unable to move. The two ended up simply staying there together for quite a while longer, enjoying the rare quiet of their apocalyptic world. This was still all new to Clive. He'd gotten some sort of compassion from Albi that he hadn't encountered since his parents' death and it opened something new in him that wasn't there before. Suddenly he didn't just want to stab things or wander. He felt like he had some sort of goal now, even if he couldn't place it himself.
   Around high noon the temperature grew to a broiling 101 degrees in the open plains, and they had to start moving, lest they fall to heat stroke. Albi helped the still aching Clive pack up and scatter the remains of the fire. This made it seem like they were never there, when dirt was thrown over their tracks and their hints of life were hidden. Once they were ready, Albi helped Clive up, trying to ignore his pained groaning, and allowed Clive to just lean all weight on him instead of trying to walk on his own. Clive found this to be much easier and much less painful, so he didn't argue and did what Albi said.
   Once they started walking Albi made sure to cover up their tracks as they went. They followed the overgrown rocky road for a few hours until they came upon a new city. This city was obviously smaller than the other, with less skyscrapers and more simple homes and hotels. To Albi's curiosity, it was still burning in some areas most likely from the dusk anarchists' chaos. The duo entered the city boarders and once again there was this looming sense of dread that overcame anyone who stepped over the city lines. This feeling of mass death and Plague.
   Albi kept Clive away from any flames, wanting to keep him as cool as possible to avoid any form of heat stroke. Eventually they made it inside a lobby of a hotel. It wasn't much cooler, but it offered shade and a place for Clive to rest, meaning it was just fine for them. Albi helped Clive sit again and dropped his pack. Clive went to move and Albi made sure he didn't. He wanted to check the wound first, making sure it was clean and changing the bandages already. The rubbing alcohol left Clive in writhing pain for a few minutes, but after the almost torturing searing had cooled, he admittedly felt a bit better.
   Albi was careful to rewrap the wound gently so he didn't hurt him more, and Clive may not have said it aloud, but he was grateful. He appreciated Albi's efforts just to keep him alive, though he was still wary. He'd heard of the tricks of backstabbing, and he didn't want to be caught as the target, so he wouldn't lower his guard. Albi didn't take this personally, and he wasn't surprised. He thought it was perfectly okay for Clive to feel wary, but that didn't stop him from taking care of him. Albi unpacked the blanket again and laid it over Clive, receiving no protest as expected. He got up and picked up his rifle from beside his pack, moving and sitting beside a window of the lobby. He watched outside for any movement and was ready to defend if necessary, and even though Clive refused to lower his guard he couldn't deny that he wasn't afraid.
   With Albi there with him now, he'd been able to sleep without fear, and instead with a trust that he would wake up in the morning, alive and unharmed. He'd felt less like he could die at any second, knowing that Albi had his back, at least for the time being. He liked the feeling, but kept reminding himself not to grow to accustomed to it, in case of any betrayals or backstabs, which weren't uncommon in his apocalyptic world.
   He didn't sleep this time. Instead Clive stayed awake, only resting for now. His leg was still throbbing with pain, but it at least was better than it was before, and didn't feel as swollen or blistered. Instead it mostly stung, with a sharp throbbing deep beneath the skin, coming from the bone bruises left by the dog's teeth. He could feel the pain through his entire leg, and he could feel each pulse of each throb, eventually catching the steady beat to feel like a heartbeat. His leg seemed to feel more alive than he did at the moment, as there was a level of mental exhaustion over him that he couldn't seem to shake.
   Albi kept looking back occasionally to check on him, each time simply relieved to see that he hadn't moved much. Clive needed to be resting in order to have any energy at all. He wouldn't be able to defend himself if Albi couldn't handle a fight alone in the condition he was in then. Albi hadn't known Clive for very long, but he still wanted to defend him with all his might, so that's what he decided he'd do. Luckily, some hours went by and it was uneventful in the city streets. It seemed as if this place was almost entirely abandoned.
   Eventually, Albi fell asleep leaning against the wall, with his rifle across his lap and his finger still over the trigger. Clive still remained awake. He wasn't able to sleep, even when he tried. His leg had gone numb besides a light painful throbbing and he could no longer feel his toes. He was lying on his back now, just staring at the concrete ceiling. There were holes in the roof, and the sky was peeking through through the cracks, giving the once beautiful lobby a solemn feel, similar to what the dockside warehouse had.
   There was a broken chandelier barely hanging from the ceiling by a threat. The glass was foggy and broken, with cobwebs strewn between cut gems. For some reason, Clive's focus was drawn to it. He could see the windows in the glass, and as he was staring, mesmerized, at the fake crystals, he noticed a quick movement from the windows.
   He sat up quickly, triggering the sudden trobbing to revive in his leg, and motioned quickly to Albi. He was trying to see if he was awake, but got no response. He knew he couldn't fight anything on his own in his state, so he had to wake up Albi. He pulled his rock from his pocket, tossing it at Albi and hitting him in the leg. The rock cluttered to the ground and the sound echoed throughout the lobby, but Albi jolted awake from the thump. Clive motioned to him frantically, signaling to the window.
   As Albi turned to see what Clive was hyped up over, he looked out the window and stared directly into the eyes of another man, who was standing just on the other side of the glass. Albi shouted out in fear and jumped away from the window. He moved beside Clive, his rifle at the ready. The man shoved open the door to the lobby and walked inside. He didn't move like a plagued creature, to Albi's relief, but he was still skeptical.
   That was until the figure moved into the light.
   "Albi! Albi Hughes my old friend!" the man cried out in excitement, spreading his arms wide as a greeting. Albi recognized the man as a fellow dusk anarchist from another city, who called himself Fredrick. They'd been good friends and partners in the past, and Albi's expression lit up upon seeing his old friend's face, so alive and well. Clive was confused. He didn't know that Albi had known anyone else personally. Albi never seemed to mention anything.
   Albi was clearly ecstatic to see his old arsonist partner, however there seemed to be one plot twist in their situation. Fredrick was supposed to be dead.