Insomnia

20

Esme awoke behind the mask. Her stomach continued to ache where the cyborg had struck her. Her throat was sore. Her lungs wheezed with every breath. She triggered the overhead display once again.

Mask Integrity: 100%

Filtration System: 100%

Air Quality : 100%

The display vanished, replaced by a series of messages. Medical diagnostics. The impact to her skull was minor. No concussion and only a few stitches to seal up the cut. She'd spent a total of one hour unconscious. Her exposure time was approximately fifteen minutes with an intake of sixty-two percent contaminated air on average for the duration. Her eyes would be fine. Permanent lung damage was unlikely, though her respiratory system would be compromised for a little while.

She would have sighed with relief if every breath wasn't a struggle. Esme sat up. Her hands probed the soft cushions supporting her body. It was a couch in her brother's apartment. She craned her neck painfully to look for him.

Atticus was sitting by the air lock, a weathered twelve gauge shotgun in his arms. A few empty ammo cartons littered the floor around him. Her eyes widened.

"Where did you get that?" she gasped. Guns had been highly restricted ever since the Disaster. No one wanted weapons floating around whose blasts were capable of compromising air filtration systems.

He didn't say anything and kept his eyes fixed firmly on the windows. She let him keep his silence and walked over to the kitchen. She filled up a glass of water and brought it towards her mask, pouring a small sip into the food compartment. As water sizzled down her throat, Esme traced the contours of her mask with her hands and recognized it as an exact replica of her old one. She turned to look at Atticus again.

Then she remembered. Mother always made them store extra masks for each other. Just in case.

Atticus turned towards the couch and his eyes widened after seeing she wasn't there. He stood up, fingers clenched firmly around the rifle before she caught his attention by waving.

"Hey," rasped Esme. Her voice was hoarse. "Thank you. For helping me."

Her brother lowered the weapon and nodded. Atticus walked towards the bathroom and opened the medicine cabinet above the sink. She followed him inside. He poured out a few white pills into his free hand and offered them to her.

"Decontaminants?" she asked. He nodded. It was her best bet for getting any dangerous particulates out of her system. Medicines like these were used for minimal exposure patients in the days after the Disaster. She hoped they would be enough.

Esme retrieved her glass of water from the kitchen and swallowed the pills. She kept the dosage low. She'd heard of cases where the cure could be worse than the disease.

Downing the white tablets through her mask's nutrient delivery system was a trial, but she succeeded, holding each one awkwardly on her tongue before splashing water after. Atticus watched from the side. Esme thought she saw a smirk twitch onto his stoic face.

This was the most lively she'd seen him since the attack. If Esme knew that showing up half-dead on his doorstep would have helped bring him back to his senses, she'd have done it months ago.

"Love you," his voice whispered, softly, sharply. Her eyes widened, before she practically leapt out of the bathroom. There was a quiet click as his bedroom door closed, Atticus stepping inside. She stared a moment longer. Her shoulders slumped. She sighed. Better than nothing. Esme looked back at the couch and saw that he'd left a blanket and pillow for her.