The Wasteland That Was Earth

6: Unlikely Friends

It was cold, the floor was rough.

Clay groaned loudly, pushing himself up on scraped palms. The floor beneath him wasn't the school's wooden boards, nor was it hot sand.
No, this was something completely new.

Lifting his head, he could only stare in awe, mouth agape as his surroundings finally settled in.

Rock. Brownish grey rock everywhere, the floor, the walls, the ceiling. Some sort of underground cave, tall and wide, the size of two average houses.
Other than one wall, right ahead, the cave seemed naturally formed. Jagged and misshapen with no opening to the outside in sight.
But at the back, the entire wall seemed as though it had been tampered by careful hands until it was a flat, almost smooth surface.

Before it, just to the right, was a long, old, pinewood table. Battered and chipped all over with variegated stains adorning its surface. Upon it sat an assortment of curious items, most of which Clay didn't recognise except for the common tools such as a rusted hammer and wrench.
The rest appeared to be unsightly amalgamations of unused parts, taken from a variety of normal home appliances. Leftmost of this wall appeared to be a small opening, draped over with diverse strips of colourful material.

To his left, Clay noticed a pile of dirty clothes and materials shaped into makeshift bedding, beside it, a hand-sewn toy that resembled a cheap Teddy bear with lopsided button eyes, the colours mismatched and a tight, eccedentesiast sewn-on smile.

The only light seemed to come from a small lantern, hung up above the table, its broken glass casing allowing the flame to lick the rock behind it, blackening the back wall slightly.

Just as he began to calm down, Clay quickly realised that he wasn't wearing his respirator. Hands scrambling across the ground in panicked confusion, he desperately searched for the missing mask.
How long had he been unconscious?
Was it already too late, was the oxygen going to kill him?

As his worried breaths stressed into full-fledged hyperventilation, the mysterious creature suddenly slipped out from behind the opening, immediately noticing Clay's frantic movements.

Fearing for his life, he struggled onto his knees and begged to the creature.
"Please, the mask I was wearing, I need it! Do you know where it is?!"

It didn't respond, simply tilted its head with a couple of clicking sounds.

"You have to understand, I'm going to die! The mask, it was on my face!"
He pleaded, on the verge of tears, gesturing around his mouth and nose to where the respirator once was.

It stared silently for another few short moments before scurrying back through the opening, swiftly reappearing with the mask and handing it to him.
Taking no moment to hesitate, Clay grabbed the respirator and attached it to the best of his ability, taking many safe, clean breaths to calm himself down.

The creature quietly crouched down before him without Clay noticing, causing him to jump backward when he finally lifted his gaze once again.

Why had it dragged him away like that?
Why had it taken his mask?

Was he completely wrong all this time, was the mysterious creature he had become so infatuated with luring him into a false sense of security all this time?

As they stared into one another's eyes, even with the situation as suspicious as it was, Clay somehow didn't feel as though he were in any danger.

It was silent, but calm. Only the quiet, faint crackle of the lantern's flame accompanying them.

"...can you...understand me?"

It tiled its head yet again, clearly acknowledging his words. Whether or not this meant it actually understood, Clay couldn't yet tell.