wasteland - dreamnotfound

Chapter Nineteen

~|Dream|~ 

Carefully, I wrap my good arm around George's waist to help him up. He wobbles slightly, pressing his lips together in a thin line, and that's when I realize how weak George had been when I got to him.

He eyes my bandage to try and catch sight of any blood. I notice and smile awkwardly. 

"It's feeling okay." I reply to what George is quite obviously thinking. 

He examines my face suspiciously. I don't move, though, almost enjoying the way he gazes at me in curiosity.

"Do you mean the 'I'm actually okay' okay or the 'I'm saying I'm okay because I don't want to worry you' okay?" George asks with a slightly wry smile. 

I roll my eyes fondly. "You know me way too well. It's the 'I'm actually okay' okay. Don't worry." 

"Because the huge gash on your arm is really helping me not to worry." 

I scoff jokingly, beginning to walk. It's a little awkward, because we're practically clinging to eachother, but save for a few cuts on George, our legs are in decent condition. 

"This feels like a three legged race or something." George snickers. "Except we're really bad at it."

I laugh. "Didn't our middle school host one of those once or some shit?" 

"Yes! And it was so bad. I'm glad we didn't go."

"Yeah, well, it's come to bite us in the ass, because we would've been dominating right now." 

George giggles. "Right." There's a pause where he gazes around. "This hallway is creepy."

And he's right, the way the lights on the ceiling swing about in the breeze, casting shadows on the walls, is eerie. 

"Yeah, no shit. I'm ready to get out of here." 

George's eyes flit back to the room we'd left, which is growing smaller as we approach the exit. He hums. "Tell me about it." 

I smile lightly. I have my George back— But for how long? 

George carefully opens the door, leaning against it for a moment before closing it again behind us. He pauses, his eyes darting about nervously. 

"What's wrong?" I ask, steadying him gently. 

George hesitates, avoiding my gaze. "I just..." He swallows. "It's stupid." 

"Hey." I say softly, tipping his head towards me. "Not stupid, you know that." 

The smaller pauses. "Well— I guess it's just.. I miss it."

I knew exactly what George means. The memories from all those years ago were long foggy, and they only became harder to recall. The only connection we had to those days were our memories, those moments that feel so long ago now. 

They were the only way we could go back to what was, five years ago. 

The wasteland hurts. It ripped everything anyone had ever known away, throwing them into a desperate performance of death, pain and suffering, for its own entertainment. 

With the memories, you could return to better times, times no one knew if they'd ever see again— And some, in fact, didn't. 

~||~

"George!" I'd screamed. 

The doors were closing, he wasn't here. 

He couldn't not be here.